Princess Auriel
by friederike.geissler.3
Summary: Did you ever wonder why Elodin ended up at the Crockery or why Auri is afraid of the Amyr?
1. Chapter 1: Princess Auriel

Once, there was a king in a mighty realm. Uncommonly, for the older times, there was no war during his reign and his country prospered. As all citizens were wealthy, they had ample time enough to educate themselves further and thus also science and knowledge thrived in this kingdom to a degree, that other countries, being not so well of, could only call them magic.

One day, though, the king's daughter fell deathly ill. There was no man in the whole kingdom who would not have helped her back to health, as she was bright and sunny as the sun. But no one knew how to cure the princess Auriel. It was then that the king send message to the other kingdoms, that whoever cured his little girl would be trusted with the king's lands and crown. On and on the messengers rode, but the illness of the princess got worse, even as more and more people went off searching for a cure. In a night with no moon the princess finally stopped breathing.

The king hid his face in his hands. As he did, he did not see how the pale woman had entered the room that stood aside his daughter' deathbed. But she spoke to him, and when he looked through his fingers, he saw her standing there, where none could have trespassed.

"Your daughter is not dead," she said, "though she soon will be, if death's path she's led. But still, she can be saved. Or not, depending."

"How," croaked the king, "I'd give you everything!"

Even speaking he could see how the last hints of red left the cheeks of his daughter.

"The price might be something, not you, but your daughter has to pay."

"She's my daughter, she'll have the whole world at her feet and more money she can spend in a lifetime!"

"But," said the woman, "if I do heal her, she'll also have terrible foes hunting her. She will not age, but you will. And lastly, she will never give birth. You still want me to heal her?"

The king was a wise man. He knew the queen wouldn't give birth to a second child. If Auriel was never to give life to a successor, the dynasty would be broken. If the dynasty were broken, there would likely come a war within his lands. And though he wished for nothing more in his life than for his daughter to breathe again, he knew that whenever life is given to the dead, nothing good comes from it.

"No, not actually."

"It is good you understand. However, not to your orders I bend."

Suddenly the three windowpanes in Princess Auriel's room shattered and wind filled it with a roaring speed. The furniture was pressed against the walls and there where glass shards flying around everywhere. The king, struggling against his chair watched as the woman's scarf unfurled into two mighty black wings as she bend down to say a word into his little girl's ear. Then he saw nothing any more as the candle by his daughter's bed extinguished.

When the queen went looking for her man having spent another night without sleep, lonely and in sorrow, she found the king asleep in the armchair in her daughter's chamber. But the princess was awake, even well, and did not remember ever being ill.

The queen and the king lived happily ever after, until they died. It did not matter to them as much as the king had thought that their dynasty was broken and that they had to declare the dimwit Modeg, son of a concubine of the king's, heir. They lived to short as Modeg's first act of state was to poison their breakfast.

But when he searched for the princess to throw her into the dungeon as a hostage against the king's council, he couldn't find her, nor could anyone else throughout the decline of the king's realm to what we know today as Modeg.

Some say, though, a small figure stood weeping at the libraries' highest tower when Caluptena burned away. Fewer persons yet remember the last time the four plate door was opened. And the one who managed to stuck it shut again. I myself am one of the last two persons remembering Auriel's true name, she who in the old tongue is also referred to as princess Ariel, but this is an other story and not my place to tell.

It took me about three years to guess her stories from parchment pieces, clay tiles and the occasional cross reference. This is why I was so surprised when my dimwit-pupil Kvothe came so close to her real name. But listen to how I encountered the princess first and judge for yourself:


	2. Chapter 2: the four plate door

Once, I stood before the four plate door thinking myself all manners of clever. I had went so far to ask my friend Alder and his recent ladylove to accompany me. You never know what awaits you on the other side of a door. So the three of us stood facing the four plate door.

"Do you know what's on the other side?" Alder asked nervously.

"I don't, exactly."

"Then why don't you hurry up and get us in?" asked his ladylove Dannica.

I had not invited her, if Alder hadn't insisted. They where to get married next felling. Up to this day I wonder what Alder found so fascinating in her. In that moment though, I said nothing of the sort and instead spoke a word. The world tilted. For a short moment gravitation ceased to exist and the few books in our immediate vicinity left their places, floating to the air as if thrown by unseen forces. Dannica shrieked. Alder reached out a hand to her to console her.

Except his aside was no longer next to him, but above. And below hung the four plate door gaping openly as the lot of us fell through.

"Wow," said Alder, as he steadied his feet, after I had realigned the gravitation to where it belonged. "Where are we?"

"I have a bad feeling about this," muttered Dannica. "what's this?"

"That's strange. It looks like bones, human bones."

"Will you ever stop bullying my girlfriend, Elodin? Relax, Dannica, he knows more names than me which is the only reason why I follow him around."

"I'm not jesting. Be silent and appreciate the trickery which got us through the secret door without keywords."

Apparently we were gathered in a small chamber having two other exits. Some dark object occupied the middle of the chamber. The air, too, was strange. It was thick and heavy as if no one had breathed it in centuries. I breathed the name of fire and everything went worse.

The fire lit the shape in the middle of the chamber, old symbols of warning, death and madness around it. It was a stone, light passing through like through glass, though harder than diamond. I know this because of the voice that spoke in my head then, in a language I did not recognize. And there was a sound from within, like a cat clawing an ice sheet.

"Someone is inside," Alder said numbly. "Oughtn't we help?" and he stepped closer despite the fact that his girlfriend had started vomiting blood. And there _were_ skeletons on the ground.

"Come back," I hissed in my last clear moment, the moment, before the words had entirely engulfed my mind. Then – nothing.

I remember some things. I remember someone screaming and hitting the ground as meaning of words tore through him like fire through a sheet of paper. But I do not think this someone was me. I remember Dannica's eyes dimming and extinguishing. But I do not think I helped her. I remember Alder trying to steal a glance through the scarred glass. But I do not think I stopped him.

I think someone ended up at the crockery, brought there by the oldest protector of the archives himself. Or should I rather say guardian of what is imprisoned in the glass greystone that killed Dannica and drove Alder insane in a single gaze?

But it was me who encountered Ariel afterwards in a different room in a different time. The demon thing's words were crawling all through my head trying to find a way out.

"So, it is safer to be alone is it not?" I asked myself aloud.

"It is," she resumed our conversation, a conversation I had no memory of. "But it doesn't make you happy."

"Who are you?" I asked. "What happened?"

"I am a former princess. I am the one who lives in spite of death. I have been called Ariel, but it no longer is my name. You were brought here."

"Who did bring me?"

"No one. Some two."

"And that would be?"

"Me and the old man."

"The old man?"

She shrugged. "He is living in the building that holds the night inside. You spoke words. Words are running through him also."

Only then did I recognize that I no longer heard the words. I must have said it too, because the girl pretending to be a princess (or so I thought then) said smugly:

"Yes, I ate them. I have bright words inside too, so I won't die from it as you would."

"I see," I said cautious. Somewhere in my soul I felt deeply hurt, hurt too badly to heal, with a pain to strong to ever pass. I felt it was likely the person who did this to me was still somewhere close by. Also, being Namer has gifted me with being quite tolerant with ways of thinking others might call complete craziness. Like, for example, claiming to be a long-dead person. There is a type of knowing that is to big for a human mind. And with the stupidity of a true genius I said:

"It was a pleasure to meet you. Would you mind to tell me the way out of this charmingly... interesting place?"

I realised then I made a mistake because suddenly I was speaking to nothing but moonlight filling my prison. The one I was later introduced to as Auri was gone.


	3. Chapter 3: Puppet

After Auri's visit that I then had to write off as a Fata Morgana, my mind cleared up again. This was somewhat unwelcome as it made me aware of my rather unpleasant surroundings. The fact that the door was hadn't a handle on my side and the lack of furniture told me several unpleasant things: First, I was imprisoned. Second, I was perhaps in a life endangering situation as I did not see how any bread or water would come my way. Lastly, pissing would become very insanitary.

I noticed then about the light. Moonlight entered the room though two windows at the end of the room. I walked over and looked out at a starlit university deeply asleep. There weren't any hinges on the windows, so I attempted to crash through them. I had heard about this room, of course. It was called the death chamber for obvious reasons and it hadn't been used for eternities. Still, when I wrote "the history of the university. Myths and facts" as a school punishment for my friend Lorren I had found an old description of it in an autobiography of the crockery's founder. The anonymous founder said its purpose was to keep "monsters" with "powers outside the reach of men" inside until they died. Namers had been working on this chamber seven years to ensure nothing would ever escape it.

They seemed to have been sucessful, I thought sourly, after several bruises on my legs and arms and not even a crack showing in the window pane. I hit at the walls as well as I did not enjoy imprisonment. I yelled, but no one answered. I listened, but I could hear nothing. I looked for names, but they were no where to be seen. Exhausted I decided to sleep a little. I woke when someone adjusted a wet rug to my face. It was Puppet.

"How did you get inside?" I asked.

"How did you regain your consciousness?" he asked at the same time.

"It sort of decided not to leave me on my own," I said nastily. "May I assume there is a secret passage to this room and you have used it?"

"Look at little Elodin over there." Puppet said gesturing to one of two breadmen he had brought with him. "May I assume there is a secret passage to this room?" He moved the other breadman. "Oh yes, there is, little Elodin, but it's the Amyr's secret."

"But I want to get out, I want to get out!" the other breadman cried, jumping impatiently up and down.

The bigger breadman hovered closer.

"Little Elodin, what do you think closed doors are good for?"

"Hm, let me think. They are good for keeping treasures inside. They are good for hiding scandal from the eyes of the public. And of course, for proving your own cleverness."

"The four plate door is none of these," Puppet said, biting the head of little Elodin off offering me the rest. I barely restrained from eating it. Instead I eyed the bowl of water he had brought with him. It was slightly dirty and there was a rag swimming within.

"You messed around with your head, E'lir," thundered the big breadman at me. Only then did I realize the pain from an crusting wound on my forehead, the very shape which comes from banging your own head against a wall. Which I had also no memory of.

"Did you try to sacrifice brain capacity in order to get a clear head again? It might have been one of your cleverer ideas. Getting behind the locked door was not. If not for Ariel, who stuck it shut behind us again, Iax would have stolen the sun as well. Without sun there is no light, don't you realise that?"

"I will never again-"

"I dare say you won't. You will help me protect the door, instead. That is, if you manage to pull together enough brain capacity for opening the passage way. Don't you want this?"

Puppet ate the rest of little Elodin in front of my eyes. Then he moved over to the wall speaking a word. I didn't hear it, though.

"Excuse me," I cried, getting to my feet as quickly as I could. "What did you say, Puppet?"

"Don't call me that name," Puppet growled and was gone.

I had some conversations with Puppet after that. I did some archaeology in the Underthing. What I today know about the thing behind the four-plate door is this:


	4. Chapter 4: the unnamed creator

Once upon a time, there was a creator funnily enough, called Iax, as Iax meant "unnamed" in the meaning of names. Iax was a fun person. He made bees produce glue instead of honey, he made the fae creatures lose their abilities and become humans and he stole the moon. He did this to create his own realm, the fae, to which he applied the abilities he had stolen from the humans.

However, some of the fae creatures went mad with longing for their home. They did everything Iax wanted in order to return. But the biggest reward their master could offer to them, was some of the stolen human's magic, which turned them weird and sometimes vicious. They are still imprisoned in the fae and are called demons by the Thelin church. And Iax, the unnamed, chose to call himself Encarnis, the lord of demons.

He erected the greystones, doors that led from the fae to the human world. This was, what he needed the moon for you see, as transport always needs energy. The greystones were the holes he tore into the prison that was the fae, as he didn't want to stay in his castle forever.

But there were others of his kind and when they saw what Encarnis had done, they either chose side in his favour or against. Most creators chose to fight with Encarnis, but some did not. Thelu, for instance, chose side against him, as did Selitos. But most folk fighting the tyrant came from the rows of the gentler shapers, that were more in numbers but inexperienced in warfare. Both the world and the fae came close to a breakdown then, and there weren't many that survived the creation war.

In the end, the last shapers managed to imprison Encarnis in a lightstone prison, carrying it deep below earth neither in the human world nor in the fae but somewhere in between. They knew the prison would not hold him forever. Thus they made three ways to Encarnis' cave. One that led to the human world, so that the humans could research on a method to trap Encarnis more efficiently. One was attached to the fae realm, and it was the most used one. The fae were charged with the task to maintain the magic that held Encarnis. And they called those sacrificing their life force to do so Amyr, the ones that worked for the good of all. Until they died.

But there was a third entrance.

None of the scrolls of the Amyr say, where this one led, except that it was a place where none could return. When the last Amyr died, the way between fae and cave was forgotten, and the key was lost. Thousands of years Encarnis had lain imprisoned, losing his sanity, if not his life, festering his viciousness. Over this he had forgotten how to free himself. And thus he still lies behind the four-plate-door, waiting for his opportunity to end the world.


	5. Chapter 5: Kote means desaster

Maybe I should get a few things straight: First of all, I am not an Amyr. And though I have helped Puppet find all books on them an hide them in his private library in the Underthing, this means nothing. Even Puppet is not an Amyr, strictly speaking. All Amyr are dead.

Which has caused the second incident I met the princess.

You see, some things are not entirely passed on, as they fall... well... dead. My colleague from the hospital claims there are persons whose heart stops beating, but who are still breathing for hours lying in some kind of stupor. Sometimes they awake again, mostly they don't. Well, I guess, If I had been so lucky with the barrow king, I'd saved myself from consideral trouble.

But no such luck.

As with the third and last time I would encounter the princess, my pupil Kvothe was involved. He came looking for me one day, meeting me in one of the seedier taverns. I was not surprised. He has a knack for getting to places he should better avoid.

"You should better leave, E'lir," I advised. "Especially as I see you left your shade at home."

"Master Elodin," Kvothe said, surprised, knocking his beer over in the process. "What are you doing here?" He pronounced it with the careful attendance one puts to words as soon as one has had several drinks.

"And right you are," I muttered. "I guess your words will one day be the end of you, E'lir."

"What?", asked Kvothe sluggishly.

"I said: What are you doing here?" I said aloud.

Kvothe looked at me dubiously.

"Funny, I could have sworn I just asked you the same question." He pointed to his spilled beer.

"I am drinking."

"May I ask why you were shouting my name?"

I had not thought to see him so soon again after he ran from school again. Of course, I should have known he was back from the higher frequency of Adem warriors in Imre. Apparently, the bigger the boy grew, the bigger the trouble.

"No, you may not ask," said Kvothe gesturing to the barman for more beer. He was ignored, though. The barman, you see, will always serve the most dangerous person in his establishment first and I was thirsty, too. Kvothe eyed my beer longingly after I prevented him from stealing it.

"But I may consider telling you."

"So?"

Suddenly, there were tears in Kvothe's eyes. I could have guessed they were real and not some part of his stage training. After some really frightening sobs and clutching on my robes, he whined:

"Who asked you to go after me anyway? You are not my dad, after all."

I chuckled.

"marta certae, partae incertus eram," Which meant roughly "mothers are known, fathers not." in Temic.

"You are not my father," Kvothe repeated himself. "You are not my teacher, You are not my older brother, so why don't you simply walk away and let me intensify understanding of the Lethani?"

"Because you are stupid beyond mortal kind."

"I am. Where is my lute?"

Some of the Adem's sitting nearby shot us a disgusted look and left.

"Maybe the same place you left your shade," I guessed.

Kvothe suddenly came to his feet.

"I had to go to the Tael," he said. "And I had to go fast."

Some beers later the nasty truth emerged. And trust me, the truth is always nasty. Young Kvothe had caught an unpleasant and rare illness from his frequent encounters with women. So he decided to go to the Tael to get clear of it, before certain mercenaries found out. Clever idea, as that would leave no evidence behind. But even Kvothe's cleverness couldn't change the fact that the Tael was miles and miles away. And whom did he tell his problem?

Auri.

He told the princess.

And the princess saved him, of course.

That was why I had not seen her around the University. Because young Kvothe had lost her, his shade and nearly his life in the fae at Berenger's graveyard. It seemed the lord of the Amyr had finally caught the rat that he had chased for eternities. Because he thought he could not let her live.

Needless to say, Kvothe ran away shortly after that and left me to pay his bill. I barely managed to survive the bar fight that followed. And I had not yet managed to speak to Sleet for a horse."


	6. Chapter 6: Abbé Leodin

As Abbé Leodin had finished his story, dawn was approaching outside oft the Waystone inn. Bast had invited the priest inside for a drink in the very early hours oft he day, having bumped into him in the middle oft he night. To his surprise, the priest had agreed and even told this story in return. Having heard the voices downstairs, the scribe had tapped down the stairs somewhere in the narration to listen inbetween overslept yawns.

Abbé Leodin lowered his empty wine mug with a frown. „May I have some more oft the Felurian red, now, please?" he asked his attentive audience.

"If you will recommence the story, all your drinks go on the house," said Bast with a sly grin. „We have to take opportunity oft the rare occasion that my Reshi has left the house, don't we?"

Abbé Leodin looked miserably down at the already refilled wine cup. „I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have talked to you in the first place, Prince of Twilight."

"You sort of started talking all by yourself," said Bast with a charming smile, "Just go on with the story. You were just starting to tell me how you and Kvothe made a rescue attempt against the last Amyr, Abbé."

Abbé Leodin sat a little straighter at the clerical title. "Please call me Elodin, Prince," he said with a ring of steel to his voice. "After all, I was a Master before I became a Abbé."

There was a noise behind them. Kote entered the Waystone Inn.

"Bast, what is this man doing here?" he demanded. „Haven't I made clear my opinion that the Abbé is persona non grata at the Waystone Inn?"

"Reshi, he was just telling a story!"

Kvote's green eyes met Elodin's dark ones. "Please leave."

Elodin shrugged. "I would, Rhinta, if you were still my student. But you are no longer. You decided otherwise."

They started a silent staring contest, until the man in the priest's robes broke eye contact. His voice sounded nearly as old as the innkeeper's when he asked finally:

"Tell me, where is it?"

"Where is what?" slurred the scribe, clearly not a morning man.

"The thing I got expelled for," said Kote.

"The thing you stole," accused Elodin. "Where is it. It can't stay here."

"It is upstairs," said Kote exasperated. "Rest assured that neither me nor you can open the chest that contains it. No human can, and no fae. Now leave."

"Why don't I feel reassured at all," said Elodin sourly. "You can evade me all you like, Kote, I'll never believe my Re'lar would make a contraption that can never be opened again. He was a lot too curious for that sort of thing."

"I never said it can't be opened," said Kote reluctantly. He heavily took a seat at the bar, as if burdened with a millstone around his neck. "There is one person in this world that can. He will come sooner or later for me and that's when..." he trailed off. "What do you want, Abbé?"

"Oh, maybe I just want you to tell young Chronicler here the dark part about your memoirs. Maybe I just wanted to pay a visit to make sure no part about the princess is excluded. Or about the Barrow King, for that matter." Accusingly he pointed his finger at Kote.

"You really shouldn't drink anymore," said Kote.

"I know," said Elodin, "I know."

"After all," said Kote, "this is my story, not yours."


	7. Chapter 7: Argument with Awryl

The fifth term at the university started bad, though in retro-perspective I think it still was the good part. Denna had left Imre, Awryl got on my bad side because I happened to get ill with an illness he had never heard off. I hadn't either, for that fact. Mola and Wil searched the archives desperately involving even Lorren in their quest. At the time I thought it odd that Master Archivist had agreed to help. But the illness affected my brain in peculiar ways.

I no longer knew whom to trust and whom not. Sometimes I would recognize a face at the Eolian, but the name and the story behind it would simply be gone. Finally I got into a severe fight with Master Healer at the hospital.

"Where are you going, Re'lar?" asked Awryl, encountering me on one of the corridors, just as I tried to climb out of a window.

"Well, I'm seeing one of my friends."

"You are under quarantine until we know whatever you snatched up!" snarled Arwyl.

"I've stayed in bed a whole month," I tried to argued, "Chances are, you'll never find out, what ails me. And you are the most advanced place in the world concerning medicine."

"Your flattery won't make me forget how you maltreated my staff. I would have send you to the crockery except I don't know if that illness of yours is contagious. What have they done to you? You have cost me two of my most talented E'lir."

"I can't trust any of them," I whispered. "They are on Ambrose's pay list. By the way, your count is incorrect. It is two E'lir and one El'the. Mola ran off in tears yesterday."

"Mola will do fine," said Awryl firmly, "I send her licence after her, figuring out that she might most likely head home. She'll heal most likely from whatever you said to her. But be warned, if you can't control yourself better, _Namer_, then I'll cut out your tongue."

"See, there's a reason I don't trust your kind," I said and climbed out of the window. As a ring of flowing wind had shown on my left hand, I was no longer afraid of a fall. I should have. Figuratively spoken.

Auri wasn't on the roofs.

So I sat down, took out my lute and played a mocking tune at the glaring Awryl below.

"Will you come down," he called angrily. "Else I swear I'll go to the Chancellor and request your expulsion!"

My fingers stumbled. Not because of what he had said, I realised, but because I had forgotten a note. I repeated the sequence, then layed my lute down.

"It matter's not," I said pulling my knees in front of my body suddenly lost like the Tarbean street runner I was so much time ago. "I already know everything there is to know."

Awryl slammed the window shut below and stomped off. There was something off in the rage of the gentle master, something as if he might break out into tears any moment. Lately I seemed to have this affect on a lot of people.

Auri sat down beside me and I politely waited for her to address me.

"What's wrong," she asked tentatively. "Why are you shouting at people?"

"I think I might be dying," I said darkly. "Nobody wants to help me. My friends have deserted me. Master healer has quarantined me." I tugged at my lute strings so hard, the cord cut into my finger. I looked at it. "Blood," I said without thinking, out of the deepness of my mind. There wasn't much left to it anymore except the sleeping mind. Ever since the illness had begun names had come at an alarming rate. I had consulted Elodin of course. He had asked with a counter question:

"Why do you think there are so few namers left to the world?"

Grimly I watched as the cut closed itself.

"What the hell is happening to me?"

Auri was watching me closely.

"Don't mind. It was a rhetorical question after all," I said bitterly. "I'll just journey towards the Tael. They are the only hope Lorren indicated after quitting his research on historical illnesses. Apparently mine is an extinguished one from before Caluptena burned." I rolled my eyes.

"How are travelling to the Tael?," asked Auri.

"How? I'll go by ship, then on horseback, then I'll climb," I said. "And by the time I reach the other side of the Stormwall there'll likely be nothing left to worry about."

I looked into her eyes.

"I wanted to tell you, before I go. This time I won't come back, Auri. Do not wait for me for this time I have come to the top of things to say farewell."

"No," said Auri, getting on her feet, the small and fragile being getting up with a determined look in her eyes like a warrior from times long gone. "I forbid it. I'll show you a faster way into the Tael. Come with me, Kvothe."

Surprised I let her guide me off the roofs and through the streets and over the bridge. I think it was some kind of spell she used on me. For I trusted her even as she led me three times around the greystone at the other side of the bridge and into the fae.


	8. Chapter 8: Ice dragon

We crossed the fae, but even as we did, my time seemed to run out. Slowly and shortly I found myself forgetting more and more things. And at the same rate my awareness vanished, my sleeping mind awoke.

"That is not your only problem, my Kvothe," said Auri, as we were just fighting ourselves a path through some snow covered conifers. I had just saved us from a small snow avalanche going down one of the trees. I had saved us by calling the name of ice. Snow consists of ice, you see. Auri continued to run through the snow while speaking.

"Second problem is the forgetting, third is the paranoia."

"Now that you mention it," I said, "I think we are being pursued."

"Endure," Auri commanded. She looked a lot more exhausted than me, though. "It is probably the Sidhe, but we can make it. Hurry."

"No, wait," I said, suddenly stopping as if breaking out of a trance. "Are you in league with them? Oh, but of course you are. I always thought there was something strange about you, Auri. How old are you, really? You are one of them!"

"We have no time," Auri said, tugging at my sleeves. "Just come. I intend no harm on you."

As she touched me, everything seemed to make sense again. We were running towards winter, I realized, the trees getting smaller and thinner the higher we climbed. It wasn't until two other miles that I again managed to pull free from Auri's spell. By now we could see the Sidhe urging their snow white horses through the trees below us. The Sidhe were lean and slender like their horses. The rabbit fur coats they were clad in were the only visibly signs of the predators.

"Run," Auri cried at me, as I was staring at them. "We have to make it to the greystone on top of that mountain!"

"No, _Ariel_," I said, breaking her spell with her name. "I will not follow you. I do not trust you. Where am I, anyway?"

Auri sank exhausted into the snow.

"It is to late," she whispered, glancing at the greystone in the distance, "They are going to kill us."

As the riders approached, I could make out more details. For example the sharp teeth their mounts were showing us. I must have forgotten my resolve by that, because again I found myself running beside Auri. We had just reached a jagged glacier field when the Sidhe called out for us.

"Stop Ariel, child of the beginning, else we will kill you both."

Auri stopped and so did I. They had dismounted at the edge of the glacier field. They hadn't any weapons pointed at us but that just made it worse.

"Please," Auri called out to them. "Please!"

"No," the leader of the Sidhe said firmly. "You were warned long ago. Your mere existence here unbalances the fae." He climbed effortlessly on the ice field and glared at us. "Even worse, you bring along the only human that has spoken the Ctheah in thousands of years. No. You will die here, on the dragon mountain, by the hands of my knights."

"We will destroy you," the other Sidhe answered, following their leaders lead.

"You leave me no choice," said Auri, then spoke a name.

The ground started to rumble beneath us. Then again. The Sidhe's horses panicked, running away despite the cries of their riders. "To the ground," the leader of the Sidhe bellowed. "Ice!" I cried panicked as the ground beneath me tilted. The glacier stopped moving for a tiny second. Then there was another impact.

"Spring!" Auri yelled into my ear.

Together we sprang across an other gap in the glacier field. Something stirred below all that icy masses. Frantically I struggled to make it to the mountain slope at the other side of the glacier field. I called the name of the wind once, when there was a gap to broad to jump across opened up in front of our very paces.

The Sidhe had ill luck. When we had reached the middle of the glacier field, the nearest on our heels broke through a snow patch that I would have sworn was solid. His cry extinguished after a heartbeat. "A glacier mill," said Auri, "Go on!"

"Are you mad?" shouted one of the Sidhe at us "Put the ice dragon to sleep again, or we will all perish!"

"Ice dragon?" I asked, stopping again to look into the direction of Auri. In a mere heartbeat she was ahead of me several leagues.

"Run," she shouted at me, "It is awakening." And I ran, the Sidhe running alongside me, all trying to make it to the shelter of the mountain slope, where Auri was climbing already heavenwards. My mind analysed the shaking ground to find a way out of the maze that was continually shifting. There was a pattern in it, the motions faster and more lethal the closer we got to the peak of mount dragon, almost as if-

"Ice!" I called out again to steady the path beneath my shoes. But as I reached the mountain slope I realized my mistake. It was warm beneath my fingers, almost hot, even as small pieces of ice continued to fall off the peak.

"Come here," Auri called. She had already reached the greystone above me and extended a hand for me. But the Sidhe and I desperately clung to the stone, as the icedragon uncurled itself from the mountain. Stone, that was alive, I realised, as the ice inbetween the scales continued melting. The dragon lifted his head and shook his head like a wet dog, sending deadly ice shards everywhere.

There were only five Sidhe who had made it to the slope. With a cry the only female one of them fell off, as one of the ice shards unbalanced her.

"Come!" cried Auri.

I launched myself at the parapet of ice above me. Just in time I dugged my fingers into the ice whispering its name. The dragon shifted again, crashing two Sidhe warriors beneath me against the black stone. It was grey, I realised, and much bigger than anything I had ever seen, including even the draccus.

"Why have you risen my from my slumber?" it asked, bringing its slanted pupil next to the frightened childish figure above.

"No!" I called, trying to climb faster.

Auri made a small courtesy. "Because you would have woken anyway?" she asked tentatively.

"I would," the dragon admitted. "But I am not your friend, child, and thus I ask."

I reached the greystone platform. I noticed the excellent overview on the dragon's body snaking all around the mountain. Lazily it crashed the last two Sidhe, that were struggling below. "Nor am I a friend of the Sidhe."

I grabbed Auri and I made my way around the greystone. One.

"Move," I whispered at Auri, as I dragged her behind. But she was near as lifeless in my arms under the eyes of the dragon, trying to say something. We made it the second time around the greystone, she managed to say weakly: "Will you eat us, because we are not friends?"

The dragon blinked. I had the sick feeling it knew exactly what I was trying to do.

"I won't," it said. "But I'll tell the Lord of the Amyr you are back, _Ariel_."

Three.

We were on the other side.


	9. Chapter 9: Into the Tael

The other side looked pretty much the same as winter in the fae, but for the dragon. An other difference was the snow that was falling all around us. Auri pointed down the mountain and said happily: "There you go. Tael is down there. The singers will find you."

"I knew it," I said. "You betrayed me, whoever you are."

My memory was again in lapses. I scrambled the mountain down, desperate to come away from the person I was convinced wanted to kill me. As I fought my way through the snowstorm, all I heard was a small voice behind me that said.

"It is all right. I'm waiting for you."

I laughed triumphantly, sure that the frail figure wouldn't make it down the mountain through this weather. And if she stayed, there would be no food, which was all right with me at the moment. Some paces further on, I had already forgotten her.

Wind and Ice were cutting relentlessly into my face. The storm howled alongside the whole mountain range. "Stormwall indeed," I said to myself. "If only the Adem knew what the weather on this side is like, they would consider themselves lucky". The terrain was slippery and with no obvious path I had often to detour. Soon I had lost my orientation. The cold became a life threatening problem.

Looking around, I finally spotted a place that seemed suited for digging. I shovelled a hole into the snow and coiled up inside to wait for the weather to clear up. I fought sleep for some time, then gave in.

I awoke, because there was a wolf licking my face. Sunshine fell into my little cave. I pushed the wolf back with Breaking Lion and came clumsily to my numb feet. As I emerged from my little cave, I immediately noticed two things: The wolf was a dog, actually. And it hadn't come alone. A small woman looked me up and down and commented in accented Ademre:

"Crazy."

She gestured to her dog sledge. _Invitation_.

"Are you a Tael?" I asked. "I need to see a Tael healer."

She gestured helplessly. Than again _invitation_. The dogs watched me with curious eyes as I took a place on the crude sledge. It seemed to consist of nothing except a few ropes, branches and leather. The woman cried "Moun," and the dogs started to pull. We started to criss-cross down the mountain. All the way "Moun," as I silently referred to her, was singing in a low voice.

It was an eerie music she used as there seemed no particular rhythm about it.

After some time there were trees again and we progressed slower and slower. Moun raised her voice in one glorious ascent. When she was finished, another voice answered her from far away. Moun gesticulated at me to get off the sledge and then we waited. As the other singing Person came closer, Moun gave from time to time high shrieks. I guessed they where some orientation aid.

Then a huge deer head emerged from the trees. A man stood beside it, eyeing me vigilant. "From Ademre?" he asked in Adem. I shook my head.

"Then you must be Shadicar," the man said, "come with us."

"Us?"

Suddenly a group of different Tael emerged from the forest around us.

"We have been watching you for a while now," one woman said, obviously the leader as she wore a small taenia with a small blue gem sewn into it. I noticed most people in the group were actually smaller than me. Most had dark eyes and dark hair and wore brown fur coats. Even their boots seemed to consist out of fur, roped together tightly around their feet.

"Why are you calling me Shadicar?" I asked, suddenly in an other fit of paranoia.

"It's all right, Shadicar," the woman said.

I looked at her and saw "Herissa" written all over her face.

"You are very ill." Herissa said. "You are so ill you cannot even remember your own name."

"I can remember my name. It is... My name is..." I trailed off.

"Thus we call you Shadicar. In our language in means "man with wounds from long ago". Will you travel with us?"

"There seems to be no other option," I said.

So that is the story of how I travelled into the Tael. Everything that actually happened on their territory I've sworn to keep secret. You may however assume, that I encountered a tree kind that is harder than steel in the Tael. You may also assume that the Tael knew a plant that could heal my illness. And thus there was a day when I headed back towards Stormwall, the pockets of my shaed full with useful things and my heart heavy with guilt at the thought of how I left the Auri at the greystone.

* * *

**Author's note: I described the Tael similar to the Samoyeds, the warrior kings of Sibiria. See for trailer: /92124104. Their only known settlement Nadymsky Gorodok was founded in the 12th centuary AD and held till AD 1730.**


	10. Chapter 10: Last prince of twilight

There was someone waiting for us on the other side of the greystone. Blue eyes with no white in it watched us with hate, as we emerged. The upper body of the fae warrior was clad in a green jacket, but beneath there were furry strong goat legs that seemed to answer the question how anyone could have ascended the now even steeper mount dragon without any visible help.

Acting by pure instinct, I drew Caesura from its scabbard. I knew I was no match against any of the fae, but maybe I could save us some time. "Auri, run!" I cried, as the foreign warrior attacked with a small knife. Caesura clattered with a clang to the ground, as the foreigner pressed me against the greystone, having chosen his weapon wisely for such a confined space. I sang a high pitched note, some of the few the Tael had been able to teach me.

Blood trickled from the ears of the fae warrior, yet he would not let me go. Instead, the small knife was getting closer to my throat, even though I had gripped his right hand with both hands. "Let me go, Pan-creature!" I called out under my breath.

"I'm not Pan, human," the fae warrior spat in Aturan, "I am the Twelfth Mael. Die."

"Wind," I called. A sudden icy storm made the fae stumble backwards. It would have blown it off the platform, but the fae creature bit into its thumb and spilled its black blood across the air. The blood transformed into birds of prey, all pressing against the fae to prevent it from falling down. I bent down and picked up Caesura, just in time to see the fae jumping at me again, knife protruding.

I wouldn't get the sword up in time. The birds overtook the fae in midair and came flying at me.

"Blood!" I cried at them, making them burst into black liquid merely a few inches away. The Mael's knife buried itself in my shaed and flesh. I plunged myself into heart of stone immediately, using some of the black liquid that had landed on Ceasura's hilt as a focus point. I pushed my Alar against it, letting the blood of the attacker go cold, terribly cold.

He stopped moving and I kicked him off the cliff.

Gasping, I sank to my knees and pulled the dagger out of my chest. I concluded from the fact that I was able to do so without any pain that I was in severe shock. The dagger clattered to the ground, blood immediately pouring out of the wound. Good, I decided dizzily, good, it might just clear any poison out of it. Then I began searching my cloak for any bandages.

The lovely little pockets of Felurian's cloak saved my life. I sewed the wound, praying to Thelu that the blade hadn't gone between my ribs. I bandaged my chest. A blood puddle all around me had spread in the white snow. I tightened Felurian's cloak around me and crawled to the edge of the platform.

The fae warrior was lying in the snow of the glacier field, having narrowly missed one of its gaps. And Auri was beside him, kneeling.

"He's all right," she called out to me, as soon as she saw my head, "He's just twisted his leg painfully."

"Get away from him!" I warned, but it was already to late. The creature was stirring. I jumped, calling the name of the wind in mid-air. It caught me from the side, blowing me away from the dangerous cliffs, but unfortunately not slowing my fall. I'm not Taborlin the Great, you see.

I plummeted into the ground next to the fae warrior, causing a cloud of fine snow to propel into the air around the impact. Blood poured out into my freshly applied bandage. Frantically stirring, I managed to get to my feet before the fae warrior could do so, pointing Caesura's sharp blade at his throat even as the blood trickled down my body.

The Mael stared at me. He had a handsome face. With his black hair he reminded me of Willem.

"What's your name and why did you try to kill us?" I asked. The fae narrowed his eyes, looking from me to Auri.

"You freed the ice dragon," it said. "It flew to the Sidhe's residence and killed all of them, including my teacher, the eleventh Mael. Then it settled in Twilight. My parents died trying to defend their people."

"Your parents?"

"Yes, I am Bastas and the last prince of Twilight." Bast said. "Due to you I've no one to teach me any more. As you killed my Reshi, you become my new Reshi unless I can defeat you."

He stared at me. I grinned.

"Well, you failed to do so," I said, "_Student_. I'm going back to the human world and I'll teach you things you've never heard of."

My gaze fell on his injured leg.

"That is, if you manage to catch up with us in time."

* * *

**Author's note: I mixed up Bastas titles. He is really called Prince of Twilight and Telwyth Mael. Somehow that got in my head to twelfth Mael and then I went off wondering what a Mael is...**


	11. Chapter 11: Ciridae Berengar

Auri and me were crossing through summer in a sail boat driven by my power over the name of wind.

"We would have been faster, had we travelled by foot," I complained, as we crossed the immense lake in the middle of summer.

"We could," said Auri, "But Summer is densely populated except out here. Someone would have spotted us and told Berengar. You can't kill a draugr as he is already dead."

"Well," I said, "In the tale of the barrow king, Jack decapitates the barrow king, puts his head next to his bottom and burns the whole thing."

"Well," said Auri, "The tale doesn't report on how the barrow king returned and strangled Jack with his own intestines for obvious reasons."

I gaped at her choice of words.

"You've become different, since we entered the fae, Auri."

"I know," she said sadly, "That happens to humans who cross over into the fae. It affects everybody a little different. You'll only notice when you get home."

"An other question," I said, "You seem to know the fae rather well. And you mentioned you were "blessed by an angel" before. What are you, Auri?"

"I am unique, of course." Auri said, smiling. And then she told me the tale about princess Ariel. I gaped.

"So angels do actually exist? What about Thelu, Deah and all the other stuff?"

Somehow the idea of unseen beings that might be watching us this very moment troubled me. There was a tenseness in the air around us, an unseen force in the subtle change of the air. I shuddered.

"Angles is what the Thelin priests named them," said Auri. "Aleu would be a better word. It doesn't contain all that religious associations. The Aleu were once simple humans as us. Or rather, they were from a race in which humankind originated. Ruach."

"Why would a Aleu bless you?" I asked, thinking that immortality might be a useful gift if I ever confronted Cinder again.

"I don't know," said Auri, "Isn't it your place to know, Kvothe, Knower of things?"

We were approaching the coast line of the lake, so I motioned for her to be silent. I stilled the wind and took a stone and a rope from my shaed to measure the water depth. It was alarmingly shallow.

"We have to swim now," I whispered, "it is better if the boats keel stays intact. That way the ship will travel alongside the current and fool any pursuers. It might buy us some time, considering there are a lot of fae angry because you freed their dragon."

At the last words, Auri had already moved into the water. I followed with the gracious ease of one following the Lethani. Wet we made it to the coast line without being spotted by any summer fae. Auri knelt down to take two stones. It sounded as if she were knocking them together.

"What are you doing?," I asked. She threw the smaller of the two stones into the water and showed me the other. She had scratched a rune on it, a crude rune in a grey stone. It said "Kel", the rune for finding.

"We are nearly there," Auri said. "I intend to lead you to the greystone that connects to Borrorill as the one near the university will likely be watched now. However, ahead lies the graveyard of Berengar and we have to cross it to get there. In case anything goes wrong, use this to get home."

She gave me the stone.

I tugged it away and then we sneaked on the graveyard. Basically, it consisted on a lot of small green hills edged by some dark trees in the distance. Some were covered with stones, overgrown with grass and moss. Some were lined with wooden poles. All of them were graves. It was an ideal territory for an ambush.

Carefully Auri and I walked through the narrow aisles in between the hills, barefeet as Auri had insisted we throw our shoes and socks into the lake. I understood now, why. It was a quiet place, quieter than even the archives at the university. There seemed to be a lack of life around this place that I found utterly disturbing. Roughly in the middle of the field the silence was broken.

"Nenur eseror," said a voice from above. And there it was, the face Auri had been sculpturing into the snow, the sun directly in his back he descended from the barrow hill with the nonchalance only a child can muster.

"Ciridae Berengar?" I asked.

"Dirella." Now that he was closer I could see he had no eyes. Empty sockets were staring at me out of a perfect marble face. He laughed like a child and pulled a satin cloth that was dangling from his small crown above his face.

"Run!" cried Auri. But I didn't.

I drew Caesura as the draugr attacked, driving me mercilessly into the maze of graves all the way laughing. "Auri!" I cried. But there was no answer. Berengar had me disarmed and bleeding from several fresh cuts on my knees soon. I had called names to defeat him, I had used sygaldry. Once, I had managed to cut Caesura across his belly, but it was all to no avail.

Berengar heaved his sword to end it as Auri called out.

"I am here. Just find me."

The draugr above me turned his head at the voice, sniffing. And then it left.

I tried to get to my feet, but if didn't work. With all the blood on my person and my shaed torn into pieces, I had ample time studying the name of blood. And by speaking it, I was able to still it until Bastas came and dragged me to the greystone and through it into the human world.

* * *

**author's note: I used the Etruscan graves at Cerveteri as a writing inspiration for Berengar's graveyard.**


	12. Chapter 12:dawn of the third day

"I must admid," said Elodin, "I wondered what all the ruckus in the fae realm lately was about. But to think you freed the sleeper... You realize it cost the Sidhe thousands of lives to battle it towards winter long ago? The only place where its blood would slow enough to sleep for many years? And you just go..."

He was visibly shaken.

"And now that it has taken revenge upon the Sidhe,... no wonder that fae creatures like the Scrael move around freely in the human world."

"He didn't wake it!" Bast defended his master.

"He took the only person there that still remembered the dragon's whole name!" Elodin shouted.

"I think it is time for you to go," said Kote quietly.

The Abbé jerked his robe free from the chair and stood. He put his unsteady gaze on Kote. "Right you are. I better catch some sleep now, considering that the day is slowly beginning. You will no doubt get into deeper trouble in the next few hours. Than you already caused."

He walked out of the door, knocking a chair off a table only once.

Bast quickly went after the fallen chair and picked it up. He started to get all the chairs down as the first sun rays of an new day were indeed showing themselves through the inn's windows. Chronicler sighed and stored his writing gear away, than extinguished his lonely candle. Kote was doing all of the things an inn keeper should do at morning.

"So the last prince of twilight," Chronicler said to Kote, "I always imagined that Bast's selfish behaviour resulted from a lack of siblings."

"Don't imagine," said Kote, "He had a twin brother, once. Just write."


	13. Chapter 13: Viari

p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"Bast tore the last bits of my shaed into pieces and used them for bandaging my legs./span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"It was made by Felurian's own hand!" I protested./span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"She probably gave it to you because she foresaw some situation like this would arise," the Mael said. "Don't worry. The shadow bits will be absorbed by your skin eventually."/span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"Actually," I said and glared at him as he treated an especially nasty gush "I never wanted you to catch up. You are a fae and you belong into the fae. I mean, look at you!" /span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"I pointed at his hooves. "Better get back at once!"/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"Oh, I put them under a glamour," said Bast, "Only people powerful enough can look through it. And my Reshi of course. We will be safe."/span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"He treated an other wound and I winced. He continued speaking./span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"I can't understand how you survived the fight with Berengar. He has killed everyone entering his graveyard during the last two thousand years. Once, he bested twenty Sidhe in one afternoon. And then you come and get through his domain with only a few scratches."/span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"I tugged at my shirt, lifting it up for him to see the brown wood beneath./span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"Well, I would have been dead as well, had it not been for this."/span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"Bast stared down incredulously at the polished piece of wood not having the slightest flaw./span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"What is it?" he asked. "to think there would be a material that withstands a elven sword as old as Berengar's... Amazing. Did you know Berengar's blade was forged in demon blood long ago?"/span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"He touched the wood reverently again, as I was fumbling around on my back to loose the other boards I'd managed to sneak out of the Tael. "What will you do with it?"/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"I will do nothing. You will go and bury it somewhere where it is unlikely to be dug up by some farmer." I looked around, considering our location. Then I knew./span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"Bring this to Trebon," I said, gesturing in the direction of the settlement. "Ask around where the grave of the black beast is. Then wait until it is dark and bury these," I shoved the wood into his unsuspecting arms. "I'll be limping south towards the university, so you'll catch up soon."/span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"Bast complained, than ran off at a surprising speed./span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"I was less mobile. Slowly I started to wander south, wondering what day it was and if the herb I had brought from the Tael would stay potent enough to save Fela's life. I needed a horse and I needed it fast. Eventually I made my way to the king's road hoping for a lot of traffic. But it was early in the morning and bad weather. I saw neither cart nor horse and on top of all it started to rain./span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"I had limped miserably through the mud for a mile or so, when I heard a lone rider approaching from behind. "Hey there!" I shouted, "Wait a moment."/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"By now I must have been a frightening sight, however the rider slowed his horse, sat off and ran the rest of the way towards me, happily laughing. "Kvothe," he called, "You are alive!" As the complete stranger hugged me and whirled me around in a halfcircle his hat fell off. I caught a glimpse at his sunburnt features and a vague memory trickled in the back of my mind./span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"One family!" he yelled in my ear over the approaching storm. I nearly broke into tears. It was Viari, the only other Edema I had ever seen at the university. Viari, who worked in acquisition department for Lorren, riding all over the world to collect precious books./span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"One family," I said, gripping his arm. "Could you lend me your horse, brother? It's an emergency. I have to get to the hospital to deliver some medicine." I patted my trouser pockets./span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"It certainly looks like an emergency," Virari said, "I took you for some vagabond on the first glance. Were are your shoes?"/span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"I've little time," I said. "Will you lend me your horse or not?"/span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"Hesitantly, Viari went back for his horse, unsuccessfully trying to unwind the saddle pouches on it. "Thelu's black body," he cursed, as the wet leather wouldn't untangle. "Damn it. If it's a true emergency just take him and run," he said, leading his mount over./span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"As I grabbed the reigns, Viari grabbed me by the arm. "But, brother, you may not leave the two books in that saddle pouches out of your eyes until they are safely in Lorren's hands. Swear it."/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"I swear it on my mother's grave," I said, attempting to mount Viari's gelding unsuccessfully. "I swear it by my name and by the everlasting freedom of the Ruh."/span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;""span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"span style="font-size: 9pt;"Good enough for me," said Viari, "wait, I'll lend you a hand."/span/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"He helped me into the saddle. "Good travel."/span/span/p  
p lang="en-GB"span style="color: #000000;"span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"I in contrast leaned forward and whispered five words into the horse's ear that made it outrun the thunder storm that was brewing above us./span/span /p 


	14. Chapter 14: Deuil

I didn't make it, though. By the time I arrived at the hospital, Fela was dead and buried. Sim had nearly thrown himself off from the top of the archive and wouldn't talk to me any more. He explained that everything about me remembered him of how he hadn't been able to help her and shut the door in my face.

"Give him some time," advised Willem, sagely "give yourself some time." He eyed me up and down. "You look like you should spent some time in the hospital even though you found a remedy against the Caluptenian Craziness. Where is it anyway?"

"Awryl has it," I said gasping, sinking down at the wall next to Simmons door. "It is nice of you, Wil, to try distracting me from the fact that I will never see Fela laugh again. That I was to late."

Wil didn't say anything.

"What's on your mind," I asked surprised, "I would have expected some contradiction."

"Do you plan to disappear again any time soon?" he asked sourly. "After all we've been through because of you, can't you even sent a runner with a tiny hint that you are off to search a plant you've read of?"

"I can't," I said icily, "not if I were not sure if the plant existed in the first place. I thought I was gooing to die sooner than finding a remedy."

"We actually thought you died!" Wil thundered at me, "There were rumours Awryl had burnt your body to prevent a plague! As they did with Fela's! Why the hell did you not tell us? We could have helped you! We could have searched as well! Better than sitting at your friend's deathbed, not able to help her, not allowed to touch her, just watching her as she slowly forgets about you!"

Simmon's door reopened.

"Go somewhere else to argue," he said, his eyes red with tears.

"Kraem," said Willem and walked off.

So did I, but in the opposite direction. The saddle pouches of Viari's horse weighted heavily on my back as I made my way towards the archives. I had an oath to keep.


	15. Chapter 15: A book on the saints

As if the day couldn't get any worse, Ambrose was on duty as I entered the archives.

"What's the matter?" he snapped, as I entered. Then his eyes widened at the sight of me. He recovered quite quickly, though. After a moment Ambrose had already his brows furrowed at me and sneered:

"I shouldn't be surprised, should I? Bad weeds grow tall, after all."

"I could say the same about you," I said, trying to cross behind him into Lorren's office. Ambrose quickly got to his feet, jostling me with surprising strength backwards.

"Where do you think you are going, rabble?"

"Lorren wants so see me," I said, patting the saddle pouches, then swiping Ambrose's feisty hand from my shoulder. "I notice you bought yourself a new ring. Fashionable. Did you steal it somewhere?"

"I know exactly where to find you, Ruh thief," said Ambrose, close enough to my ear so that the other scribe couldn't hear it. "This time you'll pay. Dearly."

Aloud he said:

"Follow me, Re'lar Kvothe, I'll lead you to the buggery where you can get rid of all the filth on your person."

Reluctantly, I followed Ambrose through the archives until we reached the buggery. After all, I _was_ filthy.

"Get in there," Ambrose said, opening a thick brown door at the end of an other aisle. "Master Lorren will see after you as soon as he's available. As I didn't move inside in a rush, he pushed me inside and threw the key after me. Then the door fell shut.

I was in a small room that was completely dark. As I lowered the saddle pouches to the ground and cursed Ambrose for not bothering to leave me a lamp, my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. There was a feint shimmer coming from under the door and it illuminated several book piles. Brilliant, I thought sourly. At least I'll have something to read while waiting for Lorren. An other faint glow came from from my right hand, were Auri's wooden ring had started to glow in a gentle greenish light. It was reflected by something at the other end of the room.

I slowly made my way through the book piles and found myself in front of a large massive cupboard, filled with books. One of them had a rune on it that was glowing back at my ring faintly. It read: "Wood, stone, bone. A religious guide on the afterlife."

I snorted, as I went through the pages. Why would Auri want me to read something like that? A name caught my eye, just as I was about to close the book.

_Lanre went to the Oracle_, it read, _and the Oracle advised him to visit Encarnis_. _At Redmill's village in Vintas the Ruach vanished by evil powers at a tall greystone as Tarsus the just was pursuing him. Tarsus waited with his followers for Lanre to reappear, but the man who had killed several farmers wouldn't show up again. All the brave priest was able to capture was a small demon emerging from the stone._ _It claimed that Lanre had used a door in the spirit realm leading to the evil to be feared above all. When asked about Encarnis, it stated blasphemously that the enemy had not been killed by Thelu, but lay imprisoned by magic. It repeated several times that Encarnis had turned Lanre into a dark creature called Rhinta, that would not die, trading immense powers against some of Lanre's own. Brave Tarsus then said "All that move against the Path have to be destroyed." and ended the creatures sufferings by the hands of the enraged farmers._

Nothing of further interest followed. I flipped the pages back to the introduction, as I heard approaching footsteps.

_It follows a summary about the deeds and failures of the saints,_ the book informed, especially_ those involved with creatures leading an evil afterlife, such as the draugr, Laniel young-again and the Seven. Further the book will speculate on names that might be able to secure eternal life, explicitly the name of Death..._

Someone had written in tiny green letters next to the text "Below."

I slammed the book shut, just as Lorren entered the room. He set down his lamp carefully and picked up the key Ambrose had thrown on the floor. Then he looked at me and the opened cupboard door behind me.

"Re'lar Kvothe, you broke into my cupboard."

"There was a mouse," I said, "I thought it was gnawing at that marvellous copy of the path!"

I waved the book on the afterlife in front of Lorren's face in the hope that he might not be able to read the title. Lorren grabbed it though, exterminating it for any injuries like a mother might do with a bruised child. He exhaled quite quickly in a relieved manner.

"Thank God, everything is well. This is just some minor quality book on the saint's life. How could you mistake it with the Path?"

"I ask myself that question, Master archivist. Apparently one of your scribes failed to equip me with a lamp." As I casually walked towards the door with the master's hard eyes in my back I waved into the direction of Viari's saddle pouches.

"Viari sends his best wishes."

As I left the room, Lorren was emptying the cupboard, piling its contents on the floor to determine whether or not there had been a mouse.


	16. Chapter 16: Over the hill

I headed out of the university, towards Anker's where my lute awaited me, safe and warm. Or so I had hoped. As I got closer, I noticed the chimney smoke column I had spotted from far away, wasn't actually chimney smoke. Speechless I came to a halt. Anker's was burning down. People were running forth and back around it tying to prevent the flames from catching over to the adjacent buildings.

Anker was still heading in and out of the building, getting furniture and barrels of whine on the street until one of his girls prevented him to dive through the thickening smoke. He coughed heavily and thus spotted me, ploughing myself a way through the crowd.

"My lute?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"They gave us this," he said, giving me a piece of paper. "The red haired rabble should take warnings more seriously and stay away from other people's belongings."

He glanced at me. "One of the girls said, she'd seen you with a copper hawk. Or is it that noble who bought you out of the other inn? Have you been running because of them?"

"No," I said, "I was under quarantine at the hospital."

"Well, you better head back straight, Kvothe. I'll be unable to reopen the Anker's anytime soon." He stared at the ruins of his inn. "I've already told the others. I won't be able to employ you any more."

I nodded. "What will you do, Anker?"

"I'll send a girl for Devi," he said, "maybe she'll lend me some money to sell the rest of my liquors out the market in Tarbean." He patted his barrel.

"How much money will you need for that?" I asked.

He laughed.

"More than you have in your pocket, boy."

"I have some money at Kilvin's workshop," I said, considering that I had virtually nothing in my pocket. "Take it. Then ask the silver guild to loan you a credit."

"I need eighty talents, Kvothe, to rent a flat at Tarbean and for transport. Do you really thing your work at the fishery might have thrown off so much?"

I negated honestly.

"I thought so," said Anker's, "still it's better than what most onlookers here have offered. I'll come to the university tomorrow."

I nodded and went off tiredly. I counted the coins in my purse. Tonight I would have to sleep in one of the seedier taverns of Imre, with an empty stomach and without the friendly warmth of an Anker's fireplace below. And maybe I should get drunk of Fela's behalf.


	17. Chapter 17: Bredon

Bast motioned of Kote to stop the narration. "Somebody is coming," he said. "there are at least eight of them." He grimaced, "Most of them wearing iron."

Kote stopped to polish the spotless counter and looked at the door. Surprise flickered in his disinterested face, than vanished.

"Get upstairs, Devan Lochees." Kote said with a voice colder than ever.

As the scribe started to collect his pages and writing gear, Kote stepped around the counter. "I'll take care of that," he said more warmly, quickly taking the utensils. "Just get to your room."

"Too late," said Bast, just as the door flew open.

Six mercenaries entered the room, followed by a Vintish noble. At last two Adem warriors entered the inn. They were marching directly towards the counter, fanning out to the sides so that the noble could make their arrangement. Though he seemed to be rather in Cob's generation, he was wearing the same black uniform as the others but for his gloved hands. The noble tapped his walking stick on the counter and said:

"I'd like to purchase rooms for eight men."

"Were out," Kote said flatly.

"If it's a matter of prizes, I'm sure-"

"It isn't."

"Listen, there's unlikely any inn in forty miles of reach. You realize I can simply confiscate the premises and be done with it?"

The grey haired noble leaned closer, then furrowed his brow. His eyes traced Kote's features for a moment, then he retreated. "Damn it," he said, "I could have sworn..."

"I could have sworn as well," said Kote, regaining his composure. "Where did you get that walking stick?"

"From someone I killed," the noble said, "Is that a problem?"

Kote continued to polish the counter, rubbing perhaps a little faster. Graciously as a cat, Bast slided at the innkeeper's side behind the counter. "No problem at all," he answered.

"Than we'll take our quarters upstairs," the noble decided. "Hand over the keys in the name of the rightful queen."

"I'll not-" began Kote, but the noble took his walking stick and hit it across Kote's face.

"Now, please," he said casually at Bast.

"We have a rat plague upstairs," Bast said uncertainly.

The noble clicked his tongue disapprovingly. The warrior next to Chronicler seized the scribe by the neck and drew his head back. Chronicler gurgled surprised.

"All right," Bast said, "just leave him."

He handed over the keys. Kote just stood with downcast eyes, having lost his polish cloth as the noble had drawn the wolf's head across his face. "Welcome," he murmured. "Bredon."

"How do you now my name?"

"News travel quickly in the countryside," the innkeeper murmured.

"Indeed they do," said Bredon, searching again the averted features of the innkeeper. He motioned for his warriors to go upstairs, then followed. Just as he was about to vanish on the stairs, he turned.

"Oh, I forgot to compliment you on the sword," he said, "is it for sale?"

"No," Kote said, meeting for the first time eyes with the new guest. "No, it isn't."

"Then I'll compliment you on its name. It is very fitting." Bredon said and left.

Kote slowly bent down and picked up the rag. Then he continued rubbing the counter. Bast signed. Chronicler lifted himself up and rubbed his throat.

"Hell, what was that all about?" He asked.

"It means I'm running out of time," Kote said, throwing away the rag. He started to collect several items all around the counter in order to prepare a meal. "Bast, will you tell Chronicler the tale further on? I have to care for our guests."

Bast wrinkled his nose.

"I'm not a good storyteller, Reshi."

"You'll do," Kote said, "You'll do." Then he picked up his plate and went upstairs.


	18. Chapter 18: the everburning lamp

"It is not my place to tell this story, still it's better than what most narrators could do considering my considerable amount of experience. I was a fae stranded in the human world. My teacher had abandoned me but for some boards of wood and I barely spoke the language. That was when an incredibly beautiful girl named Gretta crossed my path at Trebon village.

"Mylady," I said, "Would you be so kind to tell me where Church Way is?"

Gretta looked a bit confused, "Why, just head for the church tower. The road next to it is called church path, though."

"Why haven't I thought of it before! You must live close by, to know this name such well."

"No, actually I live with my parents some way off towards Imre."

"I happen to live close to Imre as well. Which farm are you from?"

"The Millers."

"I know of them. I have to pass them as I head for Imre," I lied, "Gretta, I have a wonderful idea!"

"What idea?"

"I won't tell you," I said with a charming smile. "Unless you'll put up the effort to meet me again, after I've visited church over there. I have to pray for my dead wife."

"Uh," said Gretta, "I'm sorry, was she from around here?"

"No, I merely pray for her every now and then. It is hard to be alone, you know. I'll see you _hopefully_ later, Gretta."

As I turned towards the direction Gretta had indicated I could have sworn she murmured:

"It's a small place. One usually sees all the faces again. And again...and..."

Well, I buried Reshi's board after that. I met Gretta again and had some pleasant... diversion on the way towards Imre. Basically it all works the same. If she asks if you loved her, you swear by the moon and the everlasting stars. If she asks if you'll marry her you say you'd carry her through the gates of hell and back, if needed. But if she asks your name, you need to kiss her. Really. Else she'll just walk away, knowing what there is to know about you.

Women are wonderful creatures. They shape us gentler then we are. For example, by knowing Gretta my hate against my new Reshi calmed to degree I was able to watch him through unprejudiced eyes as soon as I arrived at the university. I had been there before, of course. My favourite place about the university is the Arteficery. Whichever century you enter, they'll have something new. Thus it was my first station in Imre. A lucky draw, as it was about to turn out.

Kvothe was there, leaning on the counter, entangled in a conversation with two other people. One of them was old enough to be a teacher, the other was too old to be either student or teacher. The teacher was speaking.

"...but we cannot procure such a sum without guarantees."

"I'll build you the everlasting lamp."

"If I'd get a coin each time a pupil promises me such a thing, we needn't have this conversation," the master said, rolling his eyes.

"I am no ordinary pupil, master Kilvin," Kvothe said, "and I won't do it for free, either."

"Insolent. You call eighty talents for free?!"

"You will _donate_ eighty talents to poor Anker's here," Kvothe said sternly, "_I_ only ask that you promote me to El'the."

"I need a break," the master was pacing the room forth and back.

By now, Kvothe had seen me. I ignored him and continued to prowl the room, gazing at the sales as if it were the first time I ever saw an iceless. There was only one thing I had never seen before.

"What's this?" I asked, pointing at a hanging device close to the cash desk.

"That's the Bloodless," Kilvin said absent mindedly.

"What is it good for?" I insisted.

Kvothe sighed.

"I must excuse my friend's behaviour," he said, "Bast is a new student and hasn't yet managed the entry exam." He walked closer. "That, my friend, is called Bloodless because it can make arrows stop at you."

"Really?" I asked fascinated. I had never heard of such a thing and the fae live much longer than the humans. "Is it magic?"

"No, it actually works by making a kinetic binding to any iron object travelling into your direction at high speed. It also can avert wood or bone arrows."

My marvel at the object was cut short by "master Kilvin".

"Deal." he said simply "But if you fail me, Re'lar, I'll support Awryl's vote for an expulsion, have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, master."

Suddenly Kilvin smiled and patted Kvothe on the shoulder. "Then I'll hope to hear from you soon, El'the."

He left into the direction of the workrooms. My Reshi slowly exhaled. "We're lucky, Anker," he said, "I got your eighty talents."

The very old man shook Kvothe's hand. "You've become a fine man, Kvothe."

"I'm not half as fine as you, Anker," Kvothe said, smiling, "or do you see me take in any penniless orphans who are more trouble than they're worth?"

"What is not today, might come tomorrow," Anker said, glancing at my direction, "Trust me, I know the looks. Have you recently suffered a loss in your family, Bast?"

"How dare you?" I asked, my rage at the whole situation roaring up in this question. I dropped the Bloodless and ran off. Anger cursed through me with every heartbeat. He, a human who had only a fraction of the fae's life time, he pitied me! _Vorfehlan Rhinata Morie!_


	19. Chapter 19: Aleph, first of the Aleu

Prowling the streets of Imre and encountering beautiful women every now and then, I won my self-control back. What did I care about, what a human thought on my behalf? They had all magic in the world in front of their eyes and didn't see it. I spotted the Aleu from half a mile off, that is. She was sitting on a bench, the delicate grey wings folded behind her. She had an air of age about her, yet even if I had been mortal, I could not have averted the eyes from her, such was her beauty.

"Sit with me for a while, Bastas, son of Remmen," she invited me and I sat. Beguiled, I broke with a life rule and asked her for her name.

"If you knew it, you'd have power over me," she said flirtatiously.

"What do you want from me?"

"I believe the eleventh Mael has recently been killed. That leaves you, young Bastas, without the experience a true Mael could pass."

"What is a Mael, exactly?" I asked curiously.

The Aleu signed. "Stone, water, moon," she answered cryptically. "what do you know about the creation of the world, Bastas?"

"Nothing at all if a beauty like you offers to tell me about it."

She gave me a small smile. "Us Aleu, we know only what has been passed down by Aleph. It worries us."

She began a recitation:

"On his deathbed, Aleph, the first of all Aleu, told them this: In the beginning there was no life. No plant, no grass, no human, no fae, nothing. There was only Death himself and he was walking the world freely for it was his in the first place. There was stone, there was water and there was the moon and it was all Death needed.

However, one day, a spark would fall upon earth at the beginning of time. It had come from a long way off and it was very weak, but it grew and when it was strong enough it lifted its head against Death and spoke. "I am Aleph," it said, and as it spoke it knew its words were true. "I am the beginning of time." Death turned around and looked at it. "if you are aleph, you must leave this world, for it is mine alone."

They fought then and Aleph narrowly won by using Death's own sword against him, nailing him against a tall rock. "you'll never be master over my world," cursed Death at this. "go on, create time all you like. time will turn against you. nothing is made for eternity, not even you."

"I know that," said Aleph, "However until the end comes, I bind you with my own blood." And Aleph made high mountains grow all around Death and put a lid on Death's prison that was two thousands feet strong. At the inside, he painted it with his own blood, for he knew it was the only thing Death feared in the world. But Death spoke through the doors of stone and said: "these will not keep me back forever, aleph. i am the flood that feeds the ocean. a flood that can't be kept."

And water started to rise out of Death's prison, threatening to tear the mountains apart. "As you are water, I am fire," said Aleph and created the Ruach. "I call to life the guardians, child's of my blood, that'll bind you." The water retreated, for it saw the fire shining through the eyes of the created.

"they will be the begin of your end." spoke Death one last time. "hark yee, childs of fire, when the sleeper is freed and the Mael fails, the doors will be opened again and i'll use your blood to uncreate the world that is not yet."

The female Aleu shivered. "Then, after Aleph had finished his tale, he warned us. He said that after the creation on men, he had put a family in charge of the lonely mountain circle that kept Death. He had made them promise never to let a single human set foot on it, as it had been prophesied that a human would be the one to carry Death from his prison. For a time all went well. But the family forgot what their ancestors had promised. They would settle all around the world, abandoning the castle they had build to watch what lay below. And one of them had stolen the key to the lockless doors. Aleph then feared that a child from the family might return unaware of the promise given. Thus he made us follow its members bringing misfortune on them and only on them.

However, Aleph was on his dead bed now and he had wanted to share the reason for this with us. These were the last words of Aleph. We felt alone and vulnerable at his parting and thus it was decided not to share Aleph's words with the other two of his creations, the creators and the shapers."

"What does it have to do with me?"

"Nothing and everything," she said sadly. "We fear that now that the ice dragon has stirred, other things might come to pass as well. That is why I have been sent to warn you. There is a door in the human realm that carries the name of Death. To know it will be necessary to find him."

"Valaritas," I whispered.

"Yes. No other name would hold the one behind it back."

I bit my lip. I knew who was behind the four-plate-door, as good as every other fae.

"You fear, I'll be the Mael to fail?"

"Yes."

"What can I do?"

"Keep your current Reshi away from the four-plate-door," she advised. "And be warned. There are two other possible entries to Encarnis cave. One lies on Berengar's graveyard in the fae. You needn't worry about the third one."

"Why not?"

"Because it leads to the moon, where the Aleu live," she said, stretching her wings. Humans were strolling over without noticing her or me. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Bastas."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, too," I murmured.

As she ran off across the street of Imre, passengers were subconsciously avoiding her. Having gathered enough speed she took off into the sky. Her movements remembered me much of a sparrowhawk. I signed. As I stood up to look for Kvothe, I could not quite catch myself from mumbling:

"Anytime welcome."


	20. Chapter 20: Dulator

Kvothe wasn't at Mews. Students around the university all told me one thing: That he lived at a guest house called Anker's and that it had burned down recently. As it was getting late I quit my fruitless search to go through the entry exam. I needed admission in order to explore Mews, as the very unfriendly house keeper of Mews had informed me early on.

I got through Awryl and Kilvin's questions rather well. Hemme was a complete mystery to me and Elxa Dal's question were too difficult to answer. Numbers with Brandeur where no problem for me. I aced when Lorren asked me about the Yllish empire and the Yllish story knots, discussing with him the fascinating rituals of the close to crazy humans. We could have gone on for hours, but master namer interrupted us.

"Do you have a plan to save the princess?" asked Elodin.

"No. Do you?"

Elodin nodded and mouthed "later". The masters send me out of the room to discuss, so I had plenty of time to steal the three talents needed as admission fee from an unsuspecting student in the line. The masters called me in.

"Bastas, son of Remmen, you are in," said Elxa Dal. "Please visit Riem at the silver guild to pay your admission fee."

"Obliged," I said with a bow and made my way towards the silver guild. There was something odd about Imre tonight, I noticed as I crossed through the streets. Despite the late hour they were buzzing with excitement. Several shop owners were actually out on the street, polishing their shop windows with an unnatural enthusiasm.

"What's wrong?" I asked, entering Riem's office. He was dusting off the folders behind his desk. "Not that I'm actually complaining, but I would have sworn you'd closed up an hour ago or so."

Riem eyed me. "You don't know?"

"Know about what?" I asked, handing over my three talents.

"Roderick Calanthis, the king of Vintas. He arrived at Imre today and there's rumour he's tracing an illegitimate child of his, now that the crown prince is dead."

"The crown prince of Vintas is dead?"

"Yes," Riem said, "But that's common news, how can you not have heard of it?"

"Now that you mention it," I lied, "I might have heard before. Tell me, what do they say about this so called illegitimate child he is looking for? After all, it might be me?"

"I doubt it," Riem snorted. "Here is your receipt. Just show it at Mews and you'll be admitted."

"Wonderful," I said, "Do you happen to know the whereabouts of a certain Kvothe? I have a message for him. He's a student at the university as well."

Riem pursed his lips. "Do I look like a gaelet, trading such information?"

"I didn't mean to take offence," I said with the trickery of all fae, "If you don't know it, I'll simply buy it from somebody else." I fingered a talent out of my stolen purse. As it wasn't mine there was no need to be parsimonious, after all.

"Of course I know," said Riem, snatching the talent out of my fingers, "And thank you for the donation. The university will appreciate it. You'll find Kvothe the Bloodless no doubt at the Eolian during these late hours. He is fond of music, I heard."

"Thank you, Riem," I said, "what else is there to know?"

After I had handed over an other talent, Riem turned out to be a quite productive source. I was filled in with a lot of facts and some rumours as well about my new teacher. I seemed to barely know him. According to Riem, the man was a god dammed hero with demon powers. I thanked the man again and left the office, heading for the Eolian.

Tonight, the place was so crowded, Kvothe didn't see me as I approached. It might also have been due to the woman he was with, a handsome black haired lady in a green dress. Maybe her ears were a bit to great for my liking, though. I knew enough not to interrupt and waited at a polite distance. Not without earshot, though.

"You are as unexpected and welcome as a piece of bread in the hands of a beggar," Kvothe just said, "Denna, you make this bad day end with sweet decorum."

This Denna seemed to like Kvothe as well. She brightened whenever he spoke to her, even though there was some air of tragic around her, as if she couldn't be quite happy.

"Why, is it a bad day, when I can see you," she asked, reaching out for his cheek. Kvothe seemed to be surprised by this, than took her hand. Gods above, my Reshi had a lady love.

"Haven't you brought a companion?" he asked her.

"No, as a matter of fact, I'm here with master Ash. I wanted to go for my pipes tonight."

She beamed at him. Kvothe however looked serious.

"Your patron is here? Where?"

"Not at the Eolian," Denna specified, "He's out in Imre. He has business of his own, you know. And, Kvothe, you promised not to look for him."

"True enough," Kvothe said, "however it seems to be a strange coincidence that your patron shows up in town the same day the inn I live at burns down. You know, it probably sounds paranoid as I suspect already somebody else, but if I think back the only other time I got close to meeting your patron, there was also a fire involved."

Denna signed. "With you it is always suspicions, my Kvothe." she looked as if she might say something else then bit it back. Kvothe smiled and lifted her chin gently with his right hand in order to see her eyes. "What is it, Denna. You act as if the burden on your mind is especially heavy tonight."

"You seem to know me rather well," Denna said lightly. Though I did not knew her even I could hear in her voice his words had hit a mark.

"I know you as well as the backside of my pockets," Kvothe said.

"You know me well enough to hurt me," Denna said mockingly, "Thus I will call you Dulator tonight, which is how the Yll call a man that is so hurt he'll only give pain to others. Make me forget tomorrow, _Dulator_, be my sweet pain tonight."

Kvothe bend over and whispered something into her ear.

They stared at each other, entire stories seeming to float back and forth between them. Then the chattering at the Eolian stopped, announcing an other musician's performance. A male voice tore through the house.

"Ladies and gentleman, tonight I have a harpist for you, a harpist that has never played before, here at the Eolian. She's here to win her pipes, playing a piece by her own hand. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome Dina, Dinaels daughter."

As the audience began to applause, Denna gave Kvothe a sad last glance.

"I'll see you later?" She asked.

Kvothe nodded and than Denna made her way towards the stage.

She thanked the man who had announced her. He gave her a seat and she sat down without any flourish eyeing the audience with empty hands.

"Ladies and gentleman," the speaker announced, "Dina doesn't carry around her own Modegan harp." There were a few laughs from the crowd. "Thus the Eolian will lend her an instrument. It hasn't been played for many years. In fact I was surprised to find it in the basement."

There were another few laughs. Denna just sat, as four boys carried in a large veiled object, placing it on the stage in front of her.

"It is the first time she sees this instrument," said the speaker, unveiling the harp with a dramatic gesture. "May I present to you, Aenea, the third masterpiece by the hands of Onebli himself."

There was a second applause and then Denna started to play.

It took me only a few seconds to recognize Violet's bide. Denna smiled sadly at the crowed as she played the familiar tune gently and sadly and sweet, just as the song needs to be played. And than she started to sing.

As she finished the first few lines, she glanced at the crowd expectantly, as she entered the chorus. Violet's Bide is a rather well known song and I guessed there weren't a handful of people in the whole building that didn't know the chorus. However Kvothe and a few others were the only ones to catch the first few lines. As the audience started to sing, others joined in. It was a crowded night. Later on in the song I briefly touched one of the wooden bars of the stud frame holding the whole building together. It was shaking slightly, thus loud got the crowd's voice. It was their song. As she played it, they loved her for it.

But between the choruses, Denna sang a slightly different version of Violet bides. In her version, Violet's sailor would promise her many things never intending to keep them. Violet loves him, but he has not a second glance for her, once he loses interest. As he leaves, never to return, Violet knows this. Yet she must watch out for his ship, every day, not eating, until she wastes away.

I do not know much about human music, so I watched the crowds reaction and mimicked it. As good as I could that is. Have you ever tried bursting out into tears as you were singing? Well, I was only mouthing, but that didn't make it any better. Violet's bide is a sad song, but Denna made it hard as Ramson steel, folding it again and again, to plunge it into the auditors heart's with the last few lines.

Kvothe was standing at the rail, motionless, his hands shaking ever so slightly.

Denna looked up at him and made a small bow.

Thundering applause.

And then I lost him out of my eyes as he roughly shouldered his way towards the stairs to congratulate her on her silver pipes, worry in his face. I caught an other gaze on them downstairs, Kvothe was making a path for her through the crowd and towards the door. And then they were gone, leaving us others hurt and shaken behind.

"Well," said the speaker, "let's have a break. I think I need a bit time to recover from that one." He was wiping a tear out of his eye, than blew his nose. Nobody was laughing at all. It took a long time for the crowd to cheer up again, but as they did, I caught the eye of a lady close by. After all, if my Reshi was to sleep in a warm bed tonight, why shouldn't his pupil?


	21. Chapter 21: games of power

Bast finished his narration smugly with a glance at the door. Just minutes later, Cob entered. Bast rolled his eyes, than looked at Devan.

"I noticed you weren't writing all the time I was speaking."

"There seemed to be rather uninteresting episodes," Chronicler defended himself. "paper doesn't come cheap, these days." He leaned in closer. Something like rivalry flashed in his gaze as he said more self-assured. "You could have brought your own paper and some money for it. If I had then agreed to write your encounter with Gretta down, I would have done so."

Cob briefly glanced at them, then decided not to ask about what the scribe was writing down at the moment. "Where's Kote?" he asked instead.

"Unavailable," Bast said, not turning around.

"I need to talk to him," Cob said anxiously, "The mayor is heading in this direction and he's quite a crowd with him."

"I'll pass over the message," Bast said, bored. He was filling himself a glass ale at the counter. "What is it?"

"Someone saw eight enemy soldiers heading into this direction," said Cob hastily, "and now the mayor, he said-"

"I think I can say it for myself," said the mayor heading right through the door. "Where is the inn keeper?"

"I'm here," said the Kote, walking out of the shadow under the stairs. Bast and Chronicler winced at his sudden appearance. "What is the matter?"

"Are there currently eight mercenaries at this inn that wear the uniform of the ursupatrix?"

"They are my guests, whoever they serve."

"You realise that Baron Kaelis will think quite differently? He currently supports King Ambrose. And if you ask me, that is a wise decision as the ursurpatrix is slowly loosing grounds."

"Of course, mayor."

"These guests of you, they have to leave. We want no trouble here," someone from the crowd declared. Bast noticed they were all carrying iron in some form on them.

"There shouldn't be a problem with that," said a voice from the stairs.

Bredon was stepping down, patting a letter. "This is the king's own will," he declared. "The mediator Bredon and his eight man is to be granted safe passage throughout all secured districts. It is written here for everyone to see."

He handed the letter towards the mayor. "Indeed it is," the mayor acknowledged grudgingly, handing the letter around. "If I may ask. How where the negotiations, mediator?"

"Not very promising." Bredon said. "The game is played very unprofessional and the gamers both want to win. They are like two stones of an equal kind grinding at each other. Soon there will be nothing left but rabble."

He glanced at the innkeeper directly at the last words. Kote nodded slowly.

"I think we all know that already," he said. "And now, if I can interest you in some wine, mayor?"

"Well, no, I think, I'll come back later this day. Maybe."

The mayor moved towards the door as did the rest of the villagers, as the warriors Bredon had brought with him silently descended behind there master. Soon, there was only Bast, Chronicler, Kote and Bredon present, staring back and forth between them. The eight warriors had discovered the counter and were serving themselves in the background.

"I'm Bast," said Bastas into the uncomfortable silence. "I work here."

"I know what you are," said Bredon. "You are the Mael, the creature of chaos, whose action can't be foreseen by anyone in the world. The question is: who are you?"

He glanced at Chronicler.

"What, me? I am s-simply a scribe," said Chronicler.

Bredon gave a non-committal hm. Then he turned at Kote.

"Let's end this charade. I think we're both tired of it."

"You can't imagine how tired," Kote said, suddenly not looking like an innkeeper anymore.

"So," Bredon asked, "Where is it?"

"I think you've found it already," said Kvothe the Arcane, "judging from all the hammering I've heard from my room."

"The chest couldn't be opened," Bredon agreed.

Kvothe grinned at him. "Have you tried _Edro_?"

"Do you see me joking?" asked the noble and drew his sword, "For you just seemed to grin at me, innkeeper."

"That is of course, because I'm playing a marvellous game," said Kvothe retreating towards the counter. Suddenly there were eight pointed blades in his back. He glanced up at folly, than smiled sadly. "Why don't you sit down and listen, for I have a story to tell you ere I kill you all."

Bredon snorted. "I'd like to see that," he said, walked over to the counter and took the sword that was hanging just above the innkeeper's head with his gloved hands. "But I can spare some time. Tell us your story, Kvothe."


	22. Chapter 22: Saving the princess

"Once upon a time, Kvothe the Arcane saved a princess from the barrow king. He had two friends with him, a fae and a namer. Together they crossed at Redmill's village into the fae to bring her home. Elodin had made arrangements for the horses, Kvothe had brought his blade Caesura and Bast... was simply heading home.

"Master Elodin," asked Kvothe the Arcane, his master, who had power over the fire, "What's the plan?"

"The plan is, that there isn't a plan."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, ...El'the, some things can be better seen from an edge."

Bastas urged his horse to push aside Kvothe's. "He is crazy," the Mael mouthed.

"By the way, I'm a decent lip-reader," said Elodin aloud. "And, from a creature of chaos and craziness I take "crazy" as a compliment."

"You're welcome," said Bast sweetly, "A man should always stride for improving his skills. For example, horseback riding. The tips of your boots should point to the front, master namer."

"I'm not used to ride bareback," complained Elodin. "Originally I said Kvothe should organize us some saddles, didn't I? My a-"

He was interrupted by a spiderlike creature letting itself fall off the trees around them. "Help!" It tore Elodin too the ground, attacking him with razor sharp front legs. "Fire!" the master yelled, setting it afire, just as two other creatures emerged from the fae wood. Kvothe's horse panicked at the sudden fire and went off with his rider.

Bast managed to control his horse, urging it to stamp down one of the scrael, but the third one got a hold on his leg and tore him from his horse's back. "_Tehus, Tehus antausa eha!_" cried Bast. The creature shrank back for a moment. Bast sprang to his feet and took out his dagger with the copper hilt, just as it attacked again. Fae warrior and creature went down, rolling over the floor, stains of Bast's black blood being left behind, just as Kvothe limped on the battle zone.

"Ice!" he snarled and the three creatures froze in their movements.

Bast was on the floor, moving ever so slightly and Elodin was holding a long nasty gash in his shoulder.

"That was just in time," he said grimly, "and we haven't even made it to the graveyard."

Kvothe had kneeled at the side of his fae friend. "I must have lost too much blood," the fae warrior whispered in the Kvothe's arms, "To think I would call upon Thelu to save me." He shook his head shamefaced.

"Don't move," said Kvothe, pressing his hands against one of the Mael's many wounds.

"Fire." said Elodin in the background and kindled an other creature. "Fire. Fire." He winced at the last sound of the name, as he had used it to burn his shoulder wound. A horrible stench suddenly filled the air. "Poison," Elodin commented.

"Listen," Bast said, clutching Kvothes hand's, "You need ash and elm to-" the he passed out.

Kvothe looked at his hands covered in the fae's blood. Elodin stepped over and hit him across the face.

"What the-"

"Don't look. Look at it!" the master instructed.

And there it was, easy as music. "Blood," Kvothe said, and the blood all around him started to flow back into Bast's body. "Well I'm off gathering the wood kinds he proposed," said Elodin, "As it seems we'll be around here for some time."

Kvothe nodded, checking again Bast's pulse. "stable," he commented, then went for his horse to get his physician's set from the saddle pouches. As he returned and applied some bandages, Bast gave a small cry. "Do you want to kill me? Move more careful, human! After all I'm your only guide."

"A fine guide," Kvothe snorted, "You've lead us directly into an ambush. What kind of fae creature were they?" He sniffed his nose at the still burning carcasses.

"They aren't," said Bast, face filled with pain, "They are Scael, spider-demons that hunt in groups. They are poisonous and have to be burned with ash and elm to be on the safe side."

"Else what?"

"Else other Scrael will come for them," Bast replied, "They eat each other's carcasses."

Elodin re-emerged from the trees. "We should hurry on," he said nervously, "I think I might have been spotted by a dryad. He tossed the wooden pieces gathered at Bast who came to live rather quickly.

"Are you mad?" he shouted at Elodin, "You broke these from a tree in the demon forest?"

"I didn't know its called demon forest," said Elodin, "But now that I think of it... it seems to be a fitting name." He rubbed his shoulder. Kvothe took the elm and ash branches and threw them into the fires. An inhuman shriek came from the forest to the right. "That's a dryad," said Bast, carefully limping towards Kvothe's horse. "We should better move on. When their trees are hurt they can get quite aggressive."

All three made it on the path and hurried on. Bast was looking over his shoulder from time to time. As they reached the end of the demon forest, he slightly relaxed. "We made it," said Bast, just as the dryad leapt up from behind. Her sharp nails tore through Elodin's flesh as she tore him through the ground. Immediately Kvothe seized Caesura, but Bast gripped on his sword arm.

"Stop it, you're only making it worse."

The Mael approached the two fighting figures, seized Elodin by a leg and drew him out of the forest. As soon as they were out of the trees the dryad gave another inhuman shriek and retreated to the tree line. She didn't walk away. She stood staring after the strangers until they vanished between the barrow hills.

"Lucky," Bast said, shaking his head at Elodin, "just lucky. Usually they start by letting plants grow out of your mouth. The dryad's of the demon forest are the worst in the whole fae."

"You were the one proposing to collect some firewood, fae!"

"Stop it," yelled Kvothe, "or do you want to attract Berengar?"

"Why, yes," said Elodin sarcastically, "for once I want to be the one that gets the whole fun."

"No problem about that," said Bast, walking slowly backwards, "He's heard us. Let's split up. Whoever finds Ariel gets her out and signals the other two." He picked up a branch from the floor and broke it three times. "If I find her, I'll simply yell, though. I'm crap at sympathy."

"Sounds reasonable," said Elodin, just as Berengar stepped down the hill.

The three of them parted into different directions. The draugr laughed, then went after Elodin. Kvothe the Arcane, he ran towards the middle of the graveyard where the draugr's borrow hill might be likely. "Auri!" he called out. "If you can hear me, just answer!" There was a feint answer from the right, so Kvothe headed into that direction.

Meanwhile, Elodin was doing a good job at running, but the fae was even faster. As Berengar caught up, Elodin decided to climb one of the barrow hills as a last resort. "Wind!" he called as the draugr crept up the hill, smiling ever so slightly. As the wind moved according to the master's will, blowing back the fae it lifted a finger. It mouthed a word. And then Elodin was hurled backwards and off the hill by a storm.

He hit the ground hard, breaking his left arm in two places. This time it was Elodin who gave an inhuman shriek. Bast heard it. "I hate my live," he said under his breath, then unbandaged one of his wounds. A lot of blood trickled out of it. Bast grimaced, then clapped his hands. A cloud of ravens ascended into the sky above the graveyard even as their master beneath collapsed, breathing shallowly and fast.

Kvothe had heard the cry as well. However, he was busy digging a princess out of a grave. "Damn it," he said, "why did my horse have to run away? It had all the explosives on his back."

"Explosives?" aked Auri out of the ground, "Do you have to tell me something, young Kvothe?"

"That was a joke. Just start digging from your side."

"What do you think I've been doing all these days?" complained Auri, just as the ground beneath Kvothe gave in and he fell head-on into the grave hill. "I wasn't quite sure if you'd come for me," said Auri, tugging a moaning Kvothe out of the dirt, "Thus I loosened a few stones hither and thither." They were standing in a stone chamber with painted walls.

"Are you all right?" asked Kvothe, sending off a signal with the birch twig.

Auri gave a tiny shrug. "It wasn't so bad. After all, the draugr couldn't eat me even as he tried."

She lifted her shirt to show Kvothe a glistening wound on her belly. "Urgh. I shouldn't have asked. Let's get out of here," Kvothe proposed. He lifted Auri out of the barrow hill, than climbed after her. Unfortunately there seemed to be some kind of ward on the barrow hill, for Berengar was standing suddenly right in front of them, lifting slowly his twin blades at the Arcane.

"For the greater good!" called Kvothe out and drew Caesura. This time he hadn't any Tael boards with him. "Run, Auri," he whispered. Auri ran, and the draugr's attention flew after her. Kvothe the Arcane used this moment to attack, stabbing Caesura right through the draugr's heart from behind. That seemed to get the draugr's attention. Slowly it turned, black blood dripping from its chest wound. Kvothe ran off into the direction he suspected the trees, carefully making sure that the draugr was following him.

"Over here," cried Bast from an other barrow hill. "Give speed!"

The draugr won ground at an alarming rate. He vanished into a nearby barrow.

"Did you see that?" asked Kvothe.

"Just run!" cried Bast, "he will simply emerge at the other side!"

True to his words, the draugr emerged in front of Kvothe, cutting his escape way.

"Inora herakre," said it and touched Caesura's blade, slowly forcing her backwards out of his body, unaware of the black cuts on its hands that the blade was cutting. Kvothe retreated into heart of stone, touching the iron ring he had bought in Imre just a day before. He broke his mind into five pieces, then dove in on Berengar who was still forcing Caesura backwards out of his chest.

Within a few heartbeats, he had gripped the draugr's sword belt, snapping the iron clasp that held it with his Alar. At least, that was what he intended to do. An other Alar was pressing against his. Sweat on his forehead Kvothe reached for a sixth binding. Berengar laughed. Effortlessly he overpowered Kvothe's Alar, sending him staggering back with exhaustion. Weapon-less, Kvothe fell into the eighth position of the Ketan. The draugr got rid of Caesura and drew his blades again.

"There," Kvothe said, "Look out! There is an ice dragon just above your head!"

The draugr seemed to understand, because it tilted its head heavenwards for a short moment. "Ceasura!" Kvothe called out to his sword and it came flying at him. Black ravens descended all around him, flying in circles about him.

"Elodin's getting her out," cried Bast from his outlook, "Just distract him a little longer!"

"What do you think I am doing?" asked Kvothe.

The draugr attacked, catching Caesura between his twin blades and twisting them, the two warriors getting into a checkmate situation, as Kvothe got close enough to make Celean's break lion version. For a moment, Berengar looked surprised. Then Caesura broke. Shocked, Kvothe looked at the blade, as the draugr dove in an tore a mouthful of flesh from Kvothe's collarbone.

"Vashet is going to kill me." Kvothe whispered, drawing Caesura's sharp blade across the draugr's throat.

"_Silanxi_. I bind you!" he shouted at the creature. "_Berengar_, I name you. May all your powers turn to dust in front of me!"

The draugr signed, then said in perfect Aturan:

"As long as the door is here, I cannot die, you fool."

A moment later he sank into the earth.

"Run!" cried Bast.

And Kvothe did run. He even made it half to the demon forest. But the draugr reappeared, sending one of his blades flying after him. Kvothe turned and looked at it. Forged in demon blood long ago, he thought, than spoke a name. Berengar's blade shattered in mid-air.

"I'll meet up with you at the university, my Reshi," said Bast and cut running between the draugr and his master. The draugr took the bait, following Bast rather than Kvothe. And Kvothe the Arcane ran for the woods for he knew he was hopelessly overpowered."


	23. Chapter 23: Tak

The eight warrior's behind the counter had stopped drinking, as Kvothe finished his tale.

"You're Kvothe _the Arcane_?", asked one of them aghast. "I thought he were dead."

"Prove it," demanded an other.

"Oh, should I use the Ketan on you, for example, my friend," said Kote, grinning and turning around at the speaker.

"Hell no."

"You could sing us a song, for instance," Bredon suggested, eyes glinting. He approached his former friend and looked him up and down. "Or should we settle this with a game of tak?"

"We could," said Kote, "if I win, you and your entourage go upstairs and never utter a word at me again until you quietly pay me for my hospitality tomorrow. And leave without a word."

Bredon gave a humourless smile at the innkeeper. "If I win, you'll hand over the Lockless Box."

"Agreed," said Kvothe, shaking the noble's hand seriously, then keeping it, as Bredon tried to retreat. "Of course you can simply back out of the bargain. Swear it by your name and your power, Bredon, that if I win, you'll leave."

Bredon simply looked at him. "You can not earnestly expect to win."

Kvothe shrugged. "Unless we play, we'll never know, won't we? I had ample time playing it against Bast, over there."

Bredon's gaze flicked briefly over Bast, then grinned. "I swear it by my name and my power," he agreed. "As do I," said Kvothe, deadly serious. Bast covered his face in his hands. Chronicler frowned and took out his quill to write down Kvothe's tale from earlier on. Kvothe bent behind the counter and took out a tak board with some stones.

The Adem warriors behind the counter stepped a bit closer, as Kvothe placed the tak board on one of the tables, motioning at Bredon to take a seat. The other warriors sat down at a table close by, watching Kvothe the Arcane with martial gazes.

"I commence," announced Bredon, picking one of the tak stones and positioning it on the tak board.

Kvothe lend forward and stared at the stone.

Bast moaned. "He hasn't even placed a stone yet," he said, taking a seat from the warrior's table and joining them. "This is going to take eternities. Has anybody dice or cards, perchance?" One of the Adem warriors looked a bit worried at the fae's words and strode over.

Finally, Kvothe placed a stone himself.

Bredon placed a stone.

Kvothe placed a stone.

This went on for some time, Bredon all the while smiling at Kvothe. Bredon took stone by stone from Kvothe's stones on the board. Kvothe didn't smile at all. "tak," he said.

Bredon leaned over the board, then laughed.

"It isn't a tak," he said.

"Yes, it is," Kvothe said, beaming a great smile at his former tak instructor. "Look here, here and here." He touched several stones in a succession.

Bredon's smile fell from his face. "You cheated somehow!"

"As a matter of fact, I didn't," said Kvothe, "But if I had, would it have mattered?"

Several muscles in Bredon's face started to twitch all at once, his face slowly turning red and a vein on his temple pulsing ever so slightly. The warriors at the other table got utterly silent at the sight of their master, some ducking themselves unconsciously. One of the Adem warriors fidgeted. _Defeat_. _Congratulation. Promise_.

Kote leaned back in his chair and gave a earnest laugh.

"Take it as a compliment," he called after the retreating master. "You taught me just to well." As he reached the last words, they already sounded bitter again. Bast walked over to look at the tak board. He nodded slowly to himself, gathering up all the pieces and bringing the board behind the counter again. "What?" asked Kote, as Chronicler glanced over at him. "It effectively shut him up, didn't it?"

"He has eight warriors with him," Chronicler whispered at small voice as the last of the said were striding towards the stairs, "None of them have sworn anything."

Kvothe shrugged. "Whoever is of the Lethani," he said, "has nothing to fear."

"But you are not of the Lethani anymore," Bast said, "you were cut away."

"Maybe that, too, is of the Lethani."


	24. Chapter 24: the name of Death

Whoever is of the Lethani has nothing to fear. But as I ran through the demon forest, I was filled by a complete headless fear that the draugr might simply put his hand out of the ground any moment and tear me down, into the earth, were I would suffocate miserably.

As I reached the greystone, Auri and Elodin were already waiting for me. Elodin looked pained. A sheen of sweat was on his forehead which I knew was not a good sign. Auri must have helped him to righten his arm, as to how, I could only wonder.

"Kvothe!" cried Auri. "You are alive!" She ran towards me and hugged me tightly than stepped back as if embarrassed. "Where is the fae boy?" Elodin asked, "What did you do, El'the?" He spat the word at me as if it was some insult.

"It was his own idea," I disagreed. "I suppose he'll be all right."

"Wonderful," said Elodin, "so the merry little three of us can just go home!"

"Don't listen to him," said Auri, tugging me around the greystone. One. "His head has become a hot stove, the thoughts crackling and dancing furiously the higher the fire climbs."

"That's not entirely true," said Elodin, following us around the greystone, "I might be also crazy and thus more seriously in my fever."

We crossed over into the human world, standing suddenly in complete darkness next to a stone. There was not a single star to be seen. "A night like death himself," said Auri, pronouncing the unease we must have all felt. Silently we walked side by side, none of us speaking of what had happened in the fae, not even as we crossed through Redmill and found back to the king's road.

Elodin's vigour surprised me, though. He was pacing nearly effortless while Auri and I were stumbling every now and then in the darkness. "I know the name of earth," he said, though I hadn't said actually anything, "I know the name of wind, gravitation and fire. Who are you to stride beside me?"

"I suppose a very untalented healer," I mumbled.

"What?"

"I'm an untalented healer," I said, "I'm a lousy boyfriend, tenant and teacher."

"And?"

"And what?"

"You forgot stupid."

I halted as a sudden idea came to my mind.

"Master Elodin, I would like to ask you something about a book I recently encountered."

"Haven't you read already too many books?" Elodin complained, "Haven't I repeatedly pointed out-"

"In that book," I interrupted him, "The name of Death was mentioned."

Elodin didn't answer. "So the name of Death does actually exist?" I asked.

"All the names exist," said Elodin tiredly, "if you can only master them. And I strongly recommend you not to look for that particular name."

"But the name of Death seems to me to be a very effective name," I said. "Maybe a name powerful enough to fuel an everburning lamp."

"Don't lie to me," said Elodin at a dead tone, "Your looking for that name to put to rest your enemies. Kvothe, I'll warn you one last time about the name of Death. It is a deadly thing. It's power was what tore to ground the university that ours was build on. I tell you, it needed a thousands years to let that last fragments of what was found by an unsuspecting student long ago – a careless namer such as you – shatter. You have no idea what the name has already cost us. The dark ages after Caluptena burned down. The suffering, the tyrants. Only caused by a fraction of that name. You have no idea about what was lost. No one has anymore."

I remembered Kilvin's warding stones and somehow doubted that. I also remembered the tiny script in _stone, fire, moon_. Below. I would ask Auri as soon as I returned to the university...

"Auri?" I called out. But as the moon broke through the dark clouds above us, Elodin and I stood alone on the king's road. "Fantastically," Elodin said. "You scared her away."

We walked the road further on for two days, then caught a ride on a horse cart. Elodin's fever got worse. By the time we reached Imre, he was in serious medical need. I delivered him to the hospital. It turned out we had actually been only absent two days, but according to Awryl Elodin's broken arm was much older than that and needed to be broken again.

"Hold him down," Awryl announced flatly.

"Master healer," I said hastily, "I'm sorry about what I said to you before. Just don't let it out on him."

Awryl shot me an annoyed glance. "Are you trying to manipulate me into forgiving you, El'the? For your information, I never held a grudge until you. It seemed my mistake in the first place to think I could bind an Edema to a bed without him loosing sanity."

We were interrupted by Elodin giving a high-pitched scream as Awryl touched his arm. "More Mhenka, please, Kvothe."

I handed him a sponge filled with the powerful anaesthetic and he pressed it on Elodin's mouth. "Just breathe it, my old friend."

Elodin shook his head violently, then suddenly went limb, watching us through terrified eyes. And then Awryl steadied the other master's arm against the edge of the bed and broke it. "The knife please, El'the." I handed it over. "What do you need it for?"

"I think there might be a minor bone splitter in that arm," said Awryl, "for that break to go sour, it could be something like that. After all, one of my healing students bandaged and disinfected the cut expertly."

"Thank you," I said flattered as Awryl cut deep into the patient's arm.

"Though of course," said Awryl, peering into the wound "It was probably your fault he broke it in the first place. Wipe the blood away, please."

As I wiped the blood off with the white linnen the universty keeps for such cases I looked at it, the way it gushed out of the wound. I spoke a name "There we go," said Awryl, picking a small white bone spitter from the cut with the tweezers, interrupting my concentration, "Let's sew this, quickly. The wound has stopped bleeding." He searched for Elodin's pulse. Elodin blinked at him with angry eyes.

"It's all right," I reassured the master, "I was just naming his blood per accident."

Master Awryl blinked at me with unease. "Well maybe you deserve the title El'the after all," he said grimly, as he sewed the wound. "Bandages, please."

I handed them over and he tied them around the master's arm. Elodin closed his eyes and went into sleep. "Well done," said Awryl glancing down at his colleague. "It is maybe better if gets to know it not until he has recovered."

"Gets to know what?" I asked.

"The Chancellor decided to retire him in absence," said Awryl with a pained voice. "Hemme sold it out as some ingenious plan to secure the university's financial resources."

"Oh no," I said, looking at the sleeping Elodin "Where should he go?"

"That's rather your problem," Awry said, "judging from what I heard about a certain inn. _His_ problem will rather be the money. Why couldn't you just go for the Chancellor's post in Hemme's place?" He asked the sleeping master.

I wondered at that myself as I left to have a conversation with Devi.


	25. Chapter 25: Deals with Devi

Ascending the stairs that lead to the flat above the butcher's felt much too familiar for my liking. Still, there seemed no other option. I couldn't hide in the Underthing from Ambrose forever. I could have moved to Mews of course, but it was easily accessible. I didn't want to have to watch out for ropes on the stairs all the time. The third option, looking for an other inn, I hadn't even considered. I knew well enough from former experience Anker's had been the only place not on the Jakis' paylist.

So I knocked at Devi's door.

"If it isn't my favourite student!" she brimmed up at me, "please come in."

I swallowed than concealed it than entered.

"Please take a seat," Devi said, gesturing at her office table. "Is it true you had a brawl with Master Namer and broke his arm in the process?"

"What?"

"Well, you ran off already the second time this term. Do you ever attend classes?"

"I was at Lorren's class just yesterday. I'm also quite fond of Master Rhianna, the new Master of Languages."

"Such a busy boy," said Devi, clicking her tongue at me "maybe I should feel flattered that you visit me at all. I heard the new Master of Languages is quite... striking."

"For a woman of her age, that is," I said grinning, "Devi, you'll always be a closer friend to my heart than her. Fear nothing. I can swear it my name and power if I must."

Devi snorted. "I can't buy anything with oaths, so you can keep them for yourself. Why have you come to me?"

"You probably already know," I said, looking her into the eyes, "Anker's burned down. I need a place to stay at."

"I have already prepared a flat," admitted Devi, "it's rented under a different name so you'll have your privacy. It'll cost, though."

"How much?" I asked.

"Ten talents each Cendling. It's a fine flat. I thought to make it my place originally."

I sighed. "Devi, you know I can't afford that much. Not after what happened at Anker's."

Devi sighed, looking at my fingers. "So what do you have for me, Kvothe? Useless jewellery again? Your lute? Your silver pipes?" She smiled at me "I appreciated the last item during your absence more than I thought possible. The Eolian has the best music in the whole city."

"It has," I agreed, "but it is also the only place where I can currently play music. With a lent lute, mind you. This time I fear I'll have to trade a favour with you."

"A shame, I would have accepted that bone ring of yours," Devi said deviously. "But now that you mention it, there is a thing or two you could help me with."

"As such?"

"As for example, the Lackless box. I want to have it."

"What would you do with it?" I asked, taken by surprise, "I thought you'd ask me to smuggle you into the archives again."

"Do you know why you are my favourite customer, Kvothe?" she asked.

I remained silent, as it seemed to be some kind of rhetorical question.

"All other of my customers would have asked stupid questions as to what it is, where it is, who protects it and such stuff. For the Lackless box I'll let you live in my flat a lifetime, untroubled by the likes of Ambrose."

"No," I said, "ask something else."

Devi smiled at me sweetly, "What if I want nothing else? What could you offer me that I haven't already?"

I fingered my ring of bone. No, there had to be an other option. It was not the kind of ring to give away. I imagined Stapes face, if he were summoned to do a favour for a copper hawk. He would kill me, and worse, be under obligation to do what ever Devi wanted from him.

"Look at this," said Devi, and took a lute case from underneath her desk. She opened it. "This lute was made by Anthressador himself. It is the only one he ever named with a male name."

"Ison," I whispered, "after his dead son."

Devi opened the lute case and there Ison was, blinking at me with two hundreds years of age. I averted my face, unable to speak. I thought of all the lute at the Eolian lacked. And than I stood and turned to leave, not daring to cast an other look at Ison.

"Fine," said Devi angrily, "Sit down. I'll be content by access to the archives."

I sat. I had no other choice.

"I'll lead you there only once," I said with a dead voice, "My friend might run at the very sight of you."

"Once?"

"And you need to wear a blindfold. You may not speak to her."

"What will you give to me in return, if I agree to these conditions?" Devi moaned, "Once is little more than never."

"Prepare a book list," I suggested.

"Those circumstances, they are very uncomfortable. I agree only to them if you grant me that should I ever get a hold on the Lackless box, you'll help me to get it open," said Devi.

"What?"

"Those are my conditions, take or leave," said Devi firmly.

"Agreed," I said hastily, before she could ask for more. I exposed my left arm so she could take her blood sample and swore inwardly I would do everything I could so that the Maer's little box never reached her hands.


	26. Chapter 26: Inorganic alchemy

Next day, I made a show to go to inorganic alchemy, a course I knew it was likely to encounter Simmon in. He indeed was there, working sullenly on his project. The distance the other students were holding told me even more about his mood. Experiments in inorganic alchemy could take quite the surprising turns, whenever you worked with your mind elsewhere occupied.

"Be careful with that acid," I advised after a glance at his experiment. "You shouldn't get it into contact with water."

"I wasn't intending to," snapped Simmon at me, his eyes red from recent tears. "And if you plan to throw one of that "life will go on"- wisdoms at me, I'll spill _that acid_ directly over your hands."

"I know," I said. Silently we worked next to each other, Simmon going through the procedure of the experiment as if it were some kind of shrine not something the Giller had taken from a book and instructed his students to execute.

"Life simply ends," said Simmon into the blue, "you're completely vulnerable when it happens. Taken by surprise. In the first few weeks you see her absence as a novelty, like she's gone on holiday or something like that. You have to correct your mind again and again that no, she will never come back."

"The pain will eventually lessen," I said. "Time is able to heal everything."

Simmon gave a shaky laugh. "Yeah, maybe if I grow two hundred years old."

I hit him hard across the face. Simmon staggered backwards. "Are you crazy?"

"No. I'm merely suggesting that other things exist in the world as well with punchy arguments," I suggested. "Simmon, I name you. You are a duke's son, a scribe's friend and the best alchemist I ever encountered. Don't waste away like Violet. Fela loved you."

"I loved her, too." Simmon stopped working, then sat down tiredly. He cried. I watched helplessy until the lesson ended and he somehow managed to compose himself again. Simmon rearranged his equipment and nodded at the giller. "Sorry, Andragora, it won't happen again."

"You are one of my best students," Andragora said, "Mandrake would make me loose my job if I threw you out. And your experiment was never in any danger to go ill-advised directions regardless of what your freind said. I watched closely. But I hope that you're soon feeling better, hope it for the other students as well as some have already complained about your... distress."

The Simmon I knew would have bristled at that and talked the other down like he did with the constables who had come last time to arrest me at some tip-off of Ambrose's. But the Simmon who was currently here only slounched his shoulders more and left the room without a word. I followed him unbidden until he faced me.

"All right, Kvothe, what do you need this time?"

"I need your help," I said, "I have to construct an everburning lamp for Kilvin and no idea how to do that. Are there any substances a wise alchemist would propose to me to use? All my tries at the Fishery went wrong."

"No wonder," Simmon said, "you'll have more luck finding an intact one buried somewhere than reinventing it. This has been tried by students for the last ten years, ever since Kilvin replaced the former Master Artificer."

I thought of the Underthing. There was a part of it I had never further investigated, basically because it was flooded. "Thank you Simmon," I said. "You've been a great help. By the way, if you were to compress air, what would you use?"

We spoke until his next course started and then I walked over to my workroom at the Arteficery to explore our hypothesis. Simmon joined in after his last class. It was just what he needed. When I left the Arteficery, he even considered shaving again.


	27. Chapter 27: A son who brings the blood

As I strode out of the Arteficery, I bumped into Bast. I staggered for a moment and it wasn't because I had lost my balance. Then I cried out and hugged him tightly. To the hell with my reputation. This god dammed fae warrior had saved my live from the barrow king.

"Bast! You are alive!"

"I am," admitted Bast, freeing himself out of my embrace. He looked pointedly at his goat toes. "I was looking for you, Reshi. There's something private I need to tell you."

"Than lets go into tombs," I proposed, looking over at the great silent building. "By the way, do you know what _Vorfehlan Rhinata Morie _means? I always imagined it was fae language."

"It is," admitted Bast. "But that saying is older than me. Literally it means "dismissed memory Rhinta". We use it as a curse, whenever we think somebody has done something not worthy to remember him by."

"dismissed memory Rhinta?," I asked, surprised.

"Yes. It's an old version of fae langue. It does not use articles. The writer could want to tell us "dismissed be the memory of the Rhinta" as well as "dismissed from the memory of the Rhinta" or "Be dismissed from the memory, Rhinta." That's all a matter of interpretion. But honestly, I don't think we should head into tombs, Kvothe."

"Why not?"

"Because Lorren told me you are again banned from it," informed me Bast, "I was there just a minute ago for a vacant scribe's post."

I thought of Fela and swallowed hard. "What is his excuse this time?" I asked angrily, hiding my grief away like a secret of the heart.

"He said you broke an valuable cupboard of his." Bast said, "But he also told me that unofficially he finds himself unable to trust any genius stupid enough to enter the archives with a candle in their hand. He suspects you and doesn't want you close his precious books, exspecially now that Elodin is unable to cut off any thumbs." Bast looked a little confused at recalling the latter "Cut off the thumbs, is that a new Aturian saying?"

"I'm afraid it isn't," I said darkly, recalling a conversation in which Elodin had pressed master archivist into giving me free access to the archives in exchange for the promise to cut off my thumbs should I misbehave. Now my protector was at the hospital and according to Awryl fired by the reverent Lord Chancellor. I signed.

"Fine. Let's go to my workroom instead, _student_."

We entered the Arteficery. I watched the fae warrior out of the corner of my eye. I wasn't wearing Caesura after all. I hadn't forgotten he had tried to kill me on our first encounter. Maybe he was still looking for an opportunity.

"So, what do you want to tell me, Bastas?"

"There is an old prophecy I remembered," Bast said, blinking ever so slightly. He was either lying or very afraid. Possibly both. "It says that once the ice dragon steers and the Mael fails, the Lackless door will be opened again. That the world will die, once that happens."

I laughed. "Bullshit."

Bast looked at me grimly, then began to recite a poem:

"_Seven things stand before_

_the entrance to the Lackless door._

_One of them a ring unworn_

_One of them a time that must be right_

_One a candle without light_

_One a son who brings the blood_

_One a door that holds the flood_

_One a thing tight-held in keeping_

_Then comes that which comes with sleeping."_

I grew silent. After all, Devi had just recently asked me to steal the Lockless Box out of Meluan Lackless possession. And I suspected there was a ring within. Then it struck me. Meluan Lackless, her face had been so familiar to me. _A son who brings the blood_. An older sister of hers who had run off with a Ruh. My father, who was Ruh and mother, never having made any secret about being a runaway noblewoman. Stricken, I lowered myself to the floor.

Bast watched me as I rose my hands and slowly tore with them at my hair. Why had I not seen it? I had an aunt and she hated me passionately. _Then comes that which comes with sleeping_. "What is behind the Lackless door?" I asked.

Bast shrugged. "Death."

"Why would I want to open the door to death?" I asked bewildered. But as I spoke the question, there was a small voice in my head giving already the answer. _Maybe you don't want to open it,_ it said, _but somebody else you know will surely be interested_.

"Haliax is searching for it," I whispered. _One a candle without light_. "And he has already one of the items needed to open the door." A candle enveloped with darkness had been on the piece of pottery Nina had seen at the Mauthen farm.

"Pardon?" asked Bast.

I looked up at him. "Where is the Lackless door?"

"Oh no-no-no," said Bast, "That's exactly the wrong way of thinking, Reshi. It shouldn't be opened, and thus you shouldn't go looking for it."

"But it might be endangered. I know that the Seven are searching for it. Maybe they have already found it. Talked to Death. Maybe that is what turned Haliax crazy in the first place. Not only him but all of the Seven. Someone must have granted them their powers."

Bast paled, then relaxed, as something crossed his mind.

"They can't find it," he said, "Nobody can without the name on the four-plate-door."

I narrowed my eyes at this, "What does the name on the four-plate-door have to do with this?"

"It is the name of Death, the fragment that was discovered long ago, the only part of his name that humans are able to pronounce." Bast said, "Please tell me that you have never been at the four-plate-door, Reshi. Lorren told me you had only a term free access to them. You can't have gone that deep into tombs, can you?"

I looked at him.

"Oh no," Bast said, beginning to prowl up and down my workroom, "_Once the Mael fails.._."

"Bast," I said gently, "It's only a prophesy. Where did you get it, anyway?"

Bast said down with an air of desperation, then told me the whole story about how he could see angels and one of them had warned him. He told me of Aleph and Death. And he told me what he knew about the door of stone. _That held the flood_. He tried to make me promise on my name and my power not to look for it. But how could I promise if it was the only thing the Chandrian had ever wanted?


	28. Chapter 28: King Roderick

I returned to my brand-new flat close to the Eolian. It was on the second floor just above a bookshop. Devi had an arrangement with the shop-keeper it seemed. No doubt she'd told him I would call my demon wind down on him if he ever forget to pay his fees. For as I entered his book store and demanded a map he sent his two girls and his wife who were aiding him in his business, immediately into the back of the store and out of my reach.

"A map?" he asked.

"A map or a city list," I amended. "I'm researching on a location called Valaritas or the like."

"Do you mean castle Valaritas in southern Yll, perhaps?" asked the shop-keeper, unrolling one of the maps showing Vintas. "But there is also a town Valyr in-"

"No, I'm quite sure, the name was Valaritas. Please show it to me."

"It's here," said the owner, pointing at a small circle next to the town Myrtos. "I've been there once. The region is famous for their wine fields. The castle overshadows the whole area. But it is a ruin, forsaken since many years."

He eyed me strangely.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh it's nothing. Only that the locals fear that place like none other. They say there are only ghosts walking in the ashes of that ancient ruin."

"They are probably trying to keep their children from dangerous climbs," I said, dismissing his comment, "After all, this map suggests that the mount Valaritas lies on is an extinguished volcano. There could be poisonous fumes on top of all."

"You might think so, sir," said the shopkeeper uneasily. "I went there, once. And I did saw a movement on one of the abandoned castle walls."

"And then?" I asked.

"And then my walking stick broke and I had to go home," said the shop-keeper grisly, "Sir, do you want to buy this map or not? For I have other customers to serve as well."

I looked pointedly at the deserted bookshop, then pulled myself together. If I had a tenant connected with a gaelet, I'd wanted to spent as little time as possible with him as well. Thus I paid and went upstairs.

The flat consisted out of three separate rooms. All of them were entirely empty, as I hadn't been able to secure anything from Anker's. My lute, the painting Nina had given me, my books. All gone. I stared at the empty walls and thought of Ison. I hummed a song. As sudden as I had come, I sat up and left my flat again. It wasn't my home. My home was were my lute was. And I walked over to the Eolian to lend it for the money I had recently collected from the Bloodless sales.

"Hello Kvothe," said Stanchion, "How did things work out with your ladylove?"

Denna. Over the whole revelations I had forgotten her. She had been that upset the last time I had seen her, I was truly worried. I knew she had a problem on her mind she couldn't neither talk about nor solve. In the morning, when she had thought me asleep, I'd caught a glimpse of her sewing a dagger into the tacks of her dress. And when I had asked her about it, she had simply denied it. Unusual. I needed to see her.

"Kvothe?"

"Have you seen her?"

"She was here last night. You weren't." Stanchion said. "I wondered."

"Did she leave a message?"

"No, but now that you mention it, there's one from somebody else." Stanchion said, handing me a card over the counter. It read:

_To the hands of Kvothe, musician, at the Eolian: We happily announce the birth of our two sons Twyl and Cyrus. Maer Alveron and Meluan Alveron, former Lackless._

"Thank you," I said and threw the card into the fire place. "Could you now lend me the lute you mentioned the day before yesterday?" I placed eight jots on the counter, "I'll guard it like my very own soul."

"Just a moment," Stanchion said, than yelled "Deoch! Sixstring is here and wants his lute!" As we waited, Stanchion pushed the coins back into my direction. "We are not charging you for the instrument," he said, blinking at me, "not when we have the house full with nobles hoping that Roderick Calanthis will make an appearance."

"Uh, jeah," I said, "I heard that rumour about an illegitimate child of his as well. From what I've heard he doesn't even know if it's a girl or a boy. Nobles are disastrous fathers." I thought of Simmon, who hadn't seen his father in years.

"Well, in Calanthis case you might add disastrous lover as well," Stanchion said, "He locked away prince Athalis' mother in a tower just after she had born a heir. Rumor has it she got insane just after marriage. Was crying furiously entire days. Things the king wantend no other person to hear. Things that no man right in his mind wants to hear, if you guess my meaning. No wonder that the mother of this child he's tracing ran away from him."

We were interrupted, as Deoch approached and kissed Stanchion on the cheek. "You talk to much for such a crowded place, partner," he chided. He placed the lute in front of me. It was black and neatly trimmed. "I thought this one might fit to your cloak, Sixstrings" explained Deoch.

"Thank you," I said again. "You are too kind to me."

I took the lute and left. It wasn't in my heart to explain that I would never again wear my cloak. That I had lost it forever. Like Fela. Like Anker's. I walked out of the Eolian and directly on Caracet's toes. "Out of the way," she snarled at me, pushing me back against the Eolian's wall. "Make way for the king!" She didn't spare me a second glance as she entered the Elolian, but the way her hand relaxed around her sword hilt told me enough.

Two other Adem warriors followed her and then Roderick Calanthis crossed the street. He was tall and thin. His robe was black with gleamy embroidery on it, of the fashion I'd seen last year on Master Hemme's cloaks. His hair was ginger, though greying at the temples and well trimmed. He was talking to one of his female bodyguards and smiled, than entered the Eolian as well. I filed away that kind of smile for later use, though it would be difficult to imitate it. King Roderick had much broader lips than me. But you never knew, maybe there would arise a situation in which I'd have to play a paedophile villain of some sort.

"Kvothe," said a voice behind me.

As I turned, I saw Vashet looking at me with the usual Adem impassive face. But she was gesturing _amusement_ as she said "I should have known I'd find you at such a place."

I gestured _apology_.

"I've a room at King's Oak," she replied, gesturing _worried hurry_, "Maybe we could talk later on?"

I gestured _agreement_, and then she was past me, entering behind her king. As I walked to my new flat, I was hoping Roderick Calanthis wasn't her poet king. I also wondered what would happen if I confessed to her that I'd broken Caesura, the one sword her people had entrusted me with, in the fae.

* * *

**author's note: I used some of the minoan settlements on Creta as a writing inspiration, exspecially Fournu Korfi. Some historians believe the minoans buid these settlements deliberatly that high in the mountains because they had to fear attacks from a certain "sea people" mentioned as well in some of the Egytian scriptures. The Minoans were also threathened by the volcano Thera, for more information please visit** wiki/Minoan_civilization


	29. Chapter 29: Diving below

With Simmon's and Wilem's reluctant advice I completed my work at the Arteficery after that. We had constructed a diving cap, an air pipe and an air compression tank, all of them quite heavy. I had also turned one of my earlier tries at the everburning lamp into a small, watertight vessel, the kind of which I hoped would also work under water.

"One thing is still missing," I said finally, frowning at the device.

"What?" asked Simmon.

"Someone has to test it," I said brightly.

"Oh no," said Wilem to Simmon, "I knew it. He only involved us in that project to make other students laugh at us as soon as they see us carrying around that heavy chunk of iron."

Simmon shrugged. "I'd prefer that to drowning in the "test"."

"Don't worry," I said, "I'm going to dive, you two get me out of the water if anything goes wrong."

"What if a ship drives by?" asked Wilem. "what if the current tears you away?"

"Oh, we're not going to dive in the Omethi," I said smugly, then pointed to the floor.

Simmon and Wilem exchanged glances.

"I knew there was a drawback," said Simmon.

I led them down into the Underthing by my thief's lamp. Our steps echoed in the dark, sometimes narrow spaces. From time to time, there wouldn't be an echo at all, leaving us in utter darkness and silence. We could not help but wonder what would happen if the ceiling collapsed on our very heads. Spiders and other insects were hurrying out of my narrow circle of light. I'd brought it so that Auri would have enough darkness around her to flee if she heard us, but now I was wondering if there weren't others somewhere in the darkness, watching me, Simon and Willem through hostile eyes. Suddenly we heard a noise from the left, followed by a feint curse.

We all turned towards the source of the noise, my light loosing itself in the darkness.

"Is there somebody?" asked Wilem with a hint of his Kealdish accent. It had sounded like a male voice, somebody much bigger than Auri. I made a few steps into its direction. If it was Ambrose, after all, he could kill us down here and take his time at it because nobody would ever hear our cries. But on the other hand, _I_ could kill Ambrose down here as well.

My thief's lamp enlightened a wall. A rat hurried out of the way and Simmon let go of the diving device. Wilem wasn't strong enough to hold it on his own, so with a chunk the iron diving cap hit the ground, sending noise into all directions.

"Remind me again why I am doing this," said Simmon as the noise subsided, "I nearly pissed my pants."

Wilem laughed.

"There's nothing funny about that, idiot," snapped Simmon, "I swear, I'll never come down here again. Let's finish this stupid experiment and be done with it."

"Agreed," I said hastily, picking up the diving device's air pipe. As I did so I couldn't fail to notice there were brush marks on the floor, the very which come from tearing a heavy door across the floor. I cast my light again over the wall, now noticing a small line in it. A secret door. And someone was most likely behind it, listening at the very moment.

"All right," I said aloud, "Let's move on to Clinks."

"Clinks?" asked Wilem.

"Yes, there is a deep water filled tunnel ahead," I said, "just perfect for testing my diving device. Then we can head back again, write our report for Kilvin and never enter this place again."

"Sounds reasonable," muttered Simmon. "I _hate_ rats."

We progressed through the darkness at slow speed, mainly because the diving device slowed us down. Without further incidences we reached Clinks, a place were steps were vanishing abruptly in the water line. I had been here before and had wondered, why bottles you threw into the water would vanish through the pit. Maybe it was connected with the Omethi.

"Listen," said Wilem, his eyes on the dark surface, "You still can abandon the whole experiment. There's no shame in turning back now. Just think about it."

"I can't turn back now," I said, undressing swiftly. "If I do, I'll never know if there's an everburning lamp down there. I'll never know if my flashlight works."

"Flashlight?" asked Simmon.

I took the lamp out of my pocket and showed it to him. "Flashlight lantern, I thought, after the flashlight fish living in deep tropical waters which has luminous bacteria in his belly."

Wilem snorted. Simmon looked sceptical.

I gave them a reassuring smile. "Everything is going to be all right. You both checked my device's design and approved." I walked down into the cold water until it stood till my chest. "Net, please."

Wilem handed me a tight small net I had requested in case I found anything below. Then both he and Simmon helped me with the diving device. And then I went down, my entire existence now depending on small pipe connected with Simmons air tank which I was leaving back with my two best friends as I dived down.

The steps continued under the water surface. Small particles moved through the light radius of my flashlight. Surprisingly the water around me started getting warmer, the deeper I dived. All of a sudden the stairs vanished and I was in a broader room. Brownish mud covered the bottom of it. As I dived down to examine it I wondered how much time I had still left.

The mud I was filing through my fingers had brown particles in it. Maybe iron corrosion, I thought and lifted a huge chunk into the net, hoping a small rest would stay in it as I returned to Wilem and Simmon. All of a sudden I was torn deeper into the room by some invisible current, crashing at some solid and some not-solid obstacles in the process. The current fell as quickly away as it had arisen, leaving my shaky behind. Suddenly I was quite happy to have the air pipe as an orientation help on my way back to the surface.

It seemed there were several exits down here. I was watching the walls and the ceiling mostly, because I thought it the most likely place to position an everburning lamp. Thus I was caught by complete surprise as an iron bar slammed through my flashlight, narrowly missing my legs. I looked down and saw a huge machine, that was still at work, even as algae of some sort had completely overgrown it. Amazed I swam around the object, wondering at its purpose. As I had nearly rounded it, I got into an other current and was torn to the right, directly into one of the exits.

I knew my air was running out, so I desperately clung to the ceiling of the pit the current was pressing me in, trying to crawl back into the room, trying to get back to Wilem and Simmon, knowing that the air pipe would only cover that much distance. But I was hit by some object also travelling on the current and vanished into the exit, air pipe flying behind me. Then I was out of the current again. I congratulated myself on not having lost my net and lamp, then noticed I was breathing that fast because my air supply had been cut off.

The air pipe was trailing behind me in the water and no doubt filling with it just now at the other end. I needed to get out of here. Going back against the strong current seemed no option. Thus I swam ahead as fast as I could, using from time to time the walls to get on faster. The pit split of into two separate directions. Water was beginning to fill my diving cap just as my flashlight touched some copper pipes on the wall, leading into the left tunnel.

I sped onwards, knowing I had to find either air in three minutes or I would drown down here. I thought of Elodin. _You forgot stupid_, as I swam around an other corner and found myself at an dead end. I thought of Wil. _You still can abandon_\- No, I couldn't. I would drown in a matter of heartbeats. As if to taunt me, my flashlight fell on a lamp construction at the backside of the room, standing on the floor. An everburning lamp?

I swam closer, my lungs begging me to breath in the warm water around me. Only by sheer power of will I managed to pull my net around the lamp. I sucked in some water and passed out briefly, floating lifeless to the ground, letting go of my lamp. My blood was pounding hard in my ears, as I suffocated, spitting out more bubbles of air than I had thought possible, as it started to fill with poisonous by-products of my body. _Blood_! I mouthed a name during my cramps, hoping that I'd be able to push oxygen into it by the name just for a tiny second. The cramps subsided.

Hastily I swam back to my lamp. I grabbed my net. And I swam out of the chamber, swearing on my name and power, that I would never dive again.

Simmon and Wilem were arguing about what to do, as I emerged from the dark water, breaking down on the steps and coughing violently. Shit, there was too much water in my lungs to work again. I coughed again, making it only worse. My two friends hurried down the steps, hitting me violently on the back, shaking me with no avail.

The name of blood was forgotten as I started to suffocate for real.

Simmon saved me, using a kinetic binding to the air tank behind him to change the water in my lungs to air. With a pang the compressed-air tank imploded, and I fell to the ground, breathing in greedily, Simmon sinking to my side as the binder's chill set in. Wilem carried both of us upstairs and into the gentle circle of my thief's lamp.

"Experiment failed," he stated, as he started to massage Simmon's feet and hands against the binder's chills. I laughed. He shook his head at me, pushing my clothes into my direction. "Get dressed." I got dressed, then slowly watched as Simmon started to come to life again. Only he didn't.


	30. Chapter 30: the chain library

"Bring him to Master Mandrag," I said to Wilem when all the shouting and tears wouldn't work any more. "He is the master that has always been most kind to Simmon. It is the only thing we can do to let Master Alchemy call together the masters."

"What about you?" asked Wilem.

"Oh I've a few things to figure out," I said, gesturing at the remains of the everburning lamp, "might be the only thing that's going to save me."

"You think Hemme is going to lash you again?"

I only looked at him. "This time it might just turn worse than lashing," I said, "Simmon was a duke's son, after all."

"What about if you stay down here?" asked Wilem "I could tell the masters you drowned. Then point out your loss was too much for Simmon to bear, considering he had lost the love of his live just recently."

"Simmon's not the type to commit suicide."

"How can his father know? He hasn't seen him in years. People change."

"And besides, I could never pull off a show like that," I said, leaning over to close Simmon's eyes, "My best friend died today to save my live. It's the least we can do to tell others about the circumstances of his death."

"Even if you die for it?" asked Wilem bluntly.

"We don't know about that," I said, helping Wilem to shoulder Simmon's body, than handing him my thief's lamp. "If I manage to repair the everburning lamp, it'll swagger Kilvin's vote for sure no matter what the other masters say."

"You don't even know if it's an everburning lamp." pointed out Wilem.

"Just go!" I shouted at him, "Or do you want the rats around here get a bite from your former friend?"

Wilem turned and slowly left, leaving me behind. I sat down on the stairs illuminated by my flashlight and tried to figure out how the broken lamp I'd collected from underwater worked in the first place. I tried not to think of Simmon as I wiped away the algae that grew on it. The price had been too high. As I found the hidden mechanism turning it on, a blue radiant light filled the tunnel, outlining my tears with merciless precision. I bent over and sobbed.

As soft footsteps filled the darkness behind me I did not turn around. Somebody sat down beside me, touching me ever so careful. I knew it was Auri who'd heard my weeping. "There, there," she said, "Why must you lead people down into Auri's castle in the first place?"

I glanced at her. "What do you mean by that, Auri?"

She laughed, "poor Auri stayed behind in the fae, Kvothe. Just call me Ariel, namer."

"I asked, what did you mean by that?" I said, gripping her fragile underarms tightly. "Did you kill him? Did you use your Alar to drain him?"

Ariel looked pointedly down at her wrists. "I didn't. I just came to inform you, Kvothe, that we will not see each other for a very long time. The Aleu visited me. They call me forth to fulfil the task they intended for me in the beginning."

She looked at me with scared eyes and was my Auri again. "But I'd have to leave anyway, wouldn't I? With your friend dead, soon there will be all kind of people down here to investigate. The Underthing won't be a place to hide in for poor Auri any more."

She looked into my eyes. "Farewell, Maedre," She said and twisted out of my grip. "Wait!" I called for her. But it was to late. I lost her in the darkness even with the everburning lamp at my side. Running soon through the darkness without even hearing her footsteps anymore, I stopped breathlessly at the secret door I had discovered on my way down with Wilem and Simmon. That way that now seemed ages ago. But I was not Kvothe, had I not wanted to know what lay behind it, before I left the Underthing to face punishment by the masters.

After all, they could not kill me twice, I thought and opened the secret door. It was a library. A small room with boards on all of the walls. The blue light of the everburning lamp crossed several spines. I noticed an other thing then. Those books were all chained to the shelves like prisoners, like they couldn't be trusted with any readers. "Malfeasance," I read on the spine I was just passing, "Runes for warfare", "Demons and their summons". I shuddered. It seemed I had finally found the place where all the dangerous books went. Then my gaze fell on a new volume that looked out of place. Apparently whoever run this place hadn't managed to chain it yet.

The title was simply "Diary."

I opened the book and looked at the handwriting. I knew that crazy kind of weird loops and high arcs. I had seen it on a blackboard, just a term ago. Somehow Elodin's diary had ended down here. For years I had always asked myself why Elodin had abandoned his post as a Chancellor and it seemed just now I was about to find out.

I read about how Elodin had opened the four-plate-door.

I read about Ariel.

I stole the diary out of the secret library.

Then I went after Wilem.


	31. Chapter 31: ring of blood

Hemme postponed to bring me up between the horns until Elxa Dal returned to the university. I was suddenly left with a whole span in which I was not allowed to speak with Wilem or any other person around the university, for that matter. I was not allowed to leave Imre either. Hemme had taken three droplets of my blood to make sure of that.

He had publicly threatened to use malfeasance on me, should the locator Kilvin supplied him with make any strange movements. I played the lute a few times on top of things, but Auri wouldn't come. I looked out for Denna, but wouldn't find her. Elodin visited me periodically, teaching me to call the name of ice. I managed to call it only once, though, when he dropped a scorpion in my pants. But the wait got me nervous and frustrated so I finally decided to pay Vashet a visit at the King's Oak.

The King's Oak is the second-shiniest inn in Imre next to the Golden Pony. As I entered it, a boy in a fine livery standing next to the door objected. If he had judged me by my clothing and appearance, he was quite right to do so. I was wearing black because of Simmon's burial and it was second-hand due to Anker's burning down.

"I'm looking for an Adem warrior called Vashet," I explained. "Is she in?"

"I have to ask," said the boy, wrote something down and handed it to someone standing inside. I waited politely, retreating into my own mind and using the waiting time to think of the Chandrian. The book I'd found at the buggery suggested their powers were granted by Encarnis himself. I knew where the demon king was imprisoned, though, from Elodin's diary. I knew where the Lackless door was located. Somehow I had to use all these facts to make up a plan.

"Sir?" asked the boy hesitantly, waving an other piece of paper "Sir, you may come in."

Vashet was sitting in the corner, a place with a good overview of the whole place. She gestured _invitation_ at me and pointed to the chair in front of her. I gestured back _acceptance_ and made my way through the noble customers of the King's oak.

"Vashet," I greeted her in Adem. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"Yes," said Vashet, gesturing _worry_. "I heard you got ill."

"I travelled into the Tael," I said, gesturing _agreement_.

"When I arrived here," Vashed circled her hand around the inn's room briefly, "I heard you murdered the duke of Dalonir's son."

"He died in my place," I said, gesturing _disagreement_.

"Then, just yesterday I overheard one of the students that come to this inn. He was drunk. He saw my sword. He teased me for my pride on it because he'd seen just recently one of the same kind break."

There was a pause.

"Thus I ask you, Kvothe, have you broken your sword?"

I didn't dare to speak. I looked down at my hands. I gestured _sincere embaressment_.

Vashet touched eyes with me, then looked away. "I wished I had not taught you."

I gestured disagreement. "Had you not taught me, many would have died. There was a draugr. Without the Ketan, I would not have been able to save his victim."

"If one has mastery over the Lethani, one overcomes everything."

"Have you mastered the Lethani, Vashet?" I asked, turning into Spinning Leaf. As she didn't answer I commenced "You haven't. Whoever masters the Lethani is no part of it."

"Thus you must be cut away," said Vashet, drawing her sword, pointing it at my throat. "And if there's no red about you I'll take your blood instead."

I didn't budge. Surely, it was some kind of test. But Vashet would have killed me if it hadn't been for the crossbow bolt hitting her chest. She was driven backwards by the impact, falling on the floor as Dragan and two other mercenaries entered. Dragan pointed his crossbow at me.

"Where is the Lackless box?," he pronounced.

"I don't know," I said truthfully and paced a bit to the left to stand between him and Vashet, who was still cringing at the floor.

"Wrong answer," Dragan said, and shot an other arrow at my feet. All around us customers were accessing the situation and slowly getting up to leave. "Next will be a bit higher."

"Caracet!" shouted Vashet at the top of her voice.

One of Dragan's men shot an other bolt at her and she fell silent, dying in my back. Caracet was behind him, though, killing him only a second later than he took my teacher's life. I threw myself on the ground and headed for Vashet's sword. A table behind me fell over an other cross bolt in it. Dragan and Caracet were fighting each other with swords by now.

My problem was the third man though, who came directly after me, letting his crossbow fall and drawing his sword. "Come with me," he demanded, as I grabbed Vashet's sword. His sword was threatening me into the corner. "Turn around, so I can bind you." I tore a picture from the wall and deflected his sword with it, then stepped close enough to connect his nose with my head in a fashion Tempi had once shown me. It worked. The foreigner staggered backward for a second, blood pouring out of his nose. It was just enough to get Vashet's sword between us.

"Call the constables!" shouted someone outside. But Dragan hadn't come alone. More of the Maer's warriors poured in. ...four, five. "Leane, Harriena!" called Caracet, "Get the king outside!" She was putting up a formidable fight against Dragon, who was bleeding already from two or three deep wounds. Still, his men had joint their leader. Caracet sprang on a nearby table and killed one of them from above. Someone was cutting at her legs, but she was springing backwards already, receiving only a minor cut. _Anger_, said her hands, gesturing like a threat at me.

I had to fight for my life as well. As it seemed, my opponent was equally inept at sword's play, but I was in the corner, constricted in my movements. The only advantage I had was Vashet's sword. It might be able to crack the other man's Ramson steel, but only if I managed to endure. We were both breathing heavily. My arm was beginning to ache under the repeated strain of Vashet's sword against it. I saved my breath and looked my opponent square into the face. I will win, my body language said, as I smiled at him trying to keep the strain out of it. I knew if either Caracet or Dragan made their fatal move, I was done for.

As two other Adem warriors came down the stairs, King Roderick in their midst, it was all the diversion I needed to stab my opponent in the unprotected belly. He gave a cry and sank to the floor, but as I stepped over him to follow the escape route of King Roderick, he drew a small knife across my calf. I cried out in agony, alarming one of Dragon's men. He had a crossbow with him. Our eyes met across the inn's taproom. He aimed at me as I started to walk after the king, suppressing the pain.

_Twack_. An arrow clattered to the wall beside me.

"Can you not aim?" I called out to him, trying not to focus on my wound. I pointed Vashet's sword at him. "I'm not running from you, you idiot. I just don't want to spill your blood on all these precious carpets around here."

_Twack_. Another bolt hit the wall in front of me. I walked on. I would never make it. Despite my knowledge I took the arrow out of the wall and broke it with a laugh. "Good grief, boy. Haven't you heard that crossbows are forbidden in Imre?" Not really fancy last words, I know, but I was under considerable stress right then. Caracet had killed two other men and disabled a third which left her only with one man standing uninjured in her way. And Dragan, of course.

_Twack_. I threw myself to the floor. The third arrow narrowly missed my heart and grazed my shoulder instead. I touched my shoulder and dived deep into the heart of stone. I shouted a binding. Then I plunged my fingers deeper into the wound. I was expecting the pain, my attacker did not. He turned around to look at his shoulder where a red blossom of bood unfurled itself. Same as with me, but the black fabric of my shirt prevented him to see my injury from that distance. I got up again and walked further to the back door, loosing blood with every step. Bad for the carpets, I thought giddily.

Behind me, I heard a thud, as Caracet killed the last of Dragan's soldiers an ran for the back door, just as the constables dared to put a foot over the threshold. Dragan dropped his sword in defeat and shakily sat down on the floor.

_Twack_. The fourth crossbow bolt plunged into Caracet's hip, a split second before my attacker was knocked down by the constables. I wouldn't make it to the back doors in time so I let myself fall over and played dead man, discretely sliding Vashet's blade across the carpets towards her body. I clutched my calf and whimpered the name of blood, changing its substance on the carpets so it looked like I'd lost a lot more.

The constables handcuffed Dragan and his last man and then spread across the room to check on the bodies. I stared expressionless across the room, holding my breath as the youngest constable bent down to feel my pulse. I was still in heart of stone, my heartbeat slowed ever so slightly. I felt his hand at my throat and tensed, ready to jump at him.

The constable above me snorted. "Dead as well," he informed his superior.

"Well, let's leave then," his boss suggested, "We have to protocol the witness accounts. And then we might have to call in a Thelin judge. One of the mercenaries had Vintish coins on him. Hopefully the King Roderick is well, otherwise we'll have hell at our doors."

They left, dragging Dragan and the other guy after them.

Dragan was staring back at me. I grinned at him, then switched back into a blank expression as he was carried off, dripping more blood on the carpets.

When the inn was empty but for me, I quickly got up and retrieved Vashet's sword. I knew spectators would soon file in the place and chatter about everything they'd heard from outside or seen through the windows. I made the final few steps towards the back door and turned to glance back at the room. Blood had soiled the comfy furniture. In an irregular pattern droplets of blood and bodies lay on the carpets, interspersed with boot marks where one constable seemed to have stepped into a blood puddle.

I looked at all the blood, my hand on my shoulder with blood trickling over it. I looked at it and spoke a name. It traced my finger, getting solid. As I opened the back door, there was a new ring on my hand, a ring of blood I'd earned with a little to much pain for my liking.


	32. Chapter 32: bad chances

At Mews, I met with Wilem and Bast for a emergency treatment. The wound on my shoulder I'd managed to sew on my own, but the one on my calf was more trouble, especially since Dragan's man had torn one of Bast's earlier stitchings from my encounter with the barrow king. Wilem was doing a formidable job at holding me down on his bed as Bast unrolled my earlier makeshift bandage. Just an other of my shirts lost.

"I've to go shopping soon," I murmured, trying not to flinch as Bast pulled away the last layer of bandage.

"You won't go anytime soon," said Wil, "Kraem. I'm feeling sick."

"Well, simply don't look into this direction," said Bast annoyed.

"I wouldn't if young Kvothe here hadn't been so mysterious about all those cuts on his legs. Probably broke into Ambrose's rooms again, did you? Cut yourself on the windowpanes, did you?"

"Yes."

"What, really?"

"No, I went into the fae and had a duel with the barrow king," I said sarcastically, "Then, just as I came back, a group of mercenaries attacked me at the King's Oak, trying to abduct me. Really, I've already told you, Wilem. You're supposed to believe me."

"It's a little hard to believe, isn't it?"

"Look here," said Bast again annoyed, "Would my Reshi hang around with a student like me in the first place, if I weren't some fae warrior older than both your parents' ages counted together? Would he let me treat his wounds, if I were as young as I look like?"

"Ouch," I said, as Bast tugged out the stitches from my encounter with Berengar.

"Well, prove it then, show me your real appearance, oh, mighty fae warrior! Excuse me but it all sounds to good to be real. I should never have told Kvothe I wanted to go to the faen realm."

"It's called fae," said Bast grimacing, "and it's likely very much different from what you heard about the place, human. Look here." He snapped his fingers and his glamour broke, revealing the goat's lower body . Wilem winced at the side and shank away from me and Bast.

"Are- are you a demon?" He hissed.

Bast signed and snapped his fingers again. The glamour reappeared. "There's no such thing as demons. There's the fae and different kinds of fae. And there's creatures you have no word for in your language, human. And well, sometimes there's fae like me, that are born somewhat different. Whenever that happens a mother and a father will bring there child to Twilight, the narrow zone that belongs to none of the four fae kingdom's. They ban us. Bad blood and all that shit."

He started to bandage my calf.

"So your mother and father are not really your-" I asked.

"They adopted me when I was very young. They are the only parents who ever cared about me," said Bast bitterly. "And you took them away from me, Rishi."

I got up, sitting on the edge of Wilem's bed.

"Listen, Bast. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Sorry is not enough to bring them back," said Bast, moving to stare out of the window. "But soon I will be free again, Rishi," he said, turning back at me with a wicked smile, "Surely someone is going to kill you sooner or later by the frequency in which you collect sword wounds."

"Might as well be the masters," said Wilem darkly. "I did some research on the law of the Commonwealth while you were away, Kvothe."

"And?"

"In the worst case," said Wilem, "they'll nail nails into a barrel, then stuff you inside. Then they will harness a horse in front of it and make it tear the barrel across the cobblestones of Imre until there are no more cries from the barrel."

"And in the best case?"

"In the best case, they'll find you not guilty and expel you from the university for being extremely unlucky," said Wilem, "But I don't think they'll do that. The duke of Dalonir arrived yesterday and requested to be present when you're brought up against the horns. I think they will kill you one way or other. A sensible man would flee."

"Yeah," said Bast, "That Jakis fellow of yours is running around and spreading rumour you were involved in the attempt on King Roderick's life."

"I never attempted to kill-"

"That does not matter," said Wilem flatly, "If only enough people believe in it an outrageous lie will become the truth. Ertam the Wiser."

"But Roderick wasn't attacked at all! He just happened to be present, when the Maer's men-"

"I expect the Maer will have problems of himself now," said Wilem thoughtfully. "Roderick will no doubt send message home to attack Severen. He's not the kind and forgiving sort of king. In fact he has managed to get into conflicts with most of his neighbour's claiming this and that patch of land as his own. They will support the Maer against Roderick if only by delivering supplies. Vintas will fall into a civil war."

He shuddered. I thought of what I knew about Vintas. The Maer would no doubt be able to seize opportunity in this. Hadn't he recently sent some scouts to Rodrick's lands? I doubted Roderick could best a vassal as anticipatory as this. But then, the Maer had married a Lackless whom the Aleu would always strive to bring ill luck.

"What is it?" asked Bast, "You look as if you're plotting something."

"I am," I admitted, "But it has nothing to do with any kings. Mortal ones that is."

"Well," said Wilem sourly, "Whatever your plan is, you need to proceed swiftly. Hemme told me he wants you between the horns the day after tomorrow. He knows I'm friends with you, Kvothe. With the admission time drawing close I doubt my parents will be able to afford tuition this time."

"I think I can-"

"Not if the Maer has to finance a war against Roderick," said Wilem, "Be it as it is I'm already late for Kilvin's advanced sympathy class." He gestured us outside his room with an exaggerate bow. "El'the Kvothe, Prince Bastas, please take your leave."

"My pleasure," I said, "will I see you at the barrel-thing?"

"Need you ask?" asked Wilem and closed the door in our faces.

I signed then gestured Bast to follow me.

"He's right, you know," I said to him. "I need a plan. I already have one, but it has its flaws. For example, I don't need you here, Bast. You should skip classes and travel back to Trebon. I need a new sword. Dig up the black beast and melt its scales down. Do you know how a blade is forged?"

"Yes," said Bast, "but-"

"Some fresh air will be good for your health," I said, "Chase the wind for a while, student."

"If you command me to do so, I have to follow the order," said Bast reluctantly, turning around. He started to walk towards his room. "But I don't like it."

"Why not?"

"Because I've a sick feeling you want me out of the way!" called Bast over his shoulder.

He wasn't so wrong about that, thus I stayed silent.


	33. Chapter 33: lord of demons

It was midnight when I crouched through the Underthing and into the archive. Of course the black building held something inside that was much more dangerous than midnight and I thought of it as the light of the thief's lamp wandered across the bookshelves. Grimly I gripped Vashet's sword tighter. I thought of Lanre and how he wasn't able to die after he'd been with Encarnis.

I thought of Elodin's handwriting going shakily across the pages of his diary when he described the terror in the lightstone prison behind the four plate door. Four plates. Four Fae realms. And a name between the copper plates. Valaritas. Death. I stared at the four-plate-door. How did I open it?

Elodin had opened it the last time, but he'd tricked the door by calling the name of gravitation. He'd pointed out in his diary that he suspected the door only worked with a keyword, but if that was the case what was it? I traced my fingers over the inscription in the stone. Surely it could not?

"Valaritas," I said.

The door remained unimpressed.

"Fine, but there has to be some way," I said, "It had to be used by humans, researchers as myself. So, fae magic falls flat, doesn't it? But then again the humans had namers in their days. If I knew the name of stone, surely I could open it somehow." But I didn't and Fela was dead. I looked again at the door, then at the walls surrounding it. It was all grey stone, much like the outside of the building. Much like twilight. But if the places between the copper plates represented twilight, what was the centre square representing, the one with Death's name on it? Maybe I was on the wrong path again.

I placed my hand on it. And my soft musician's fingers caught a glimpse of an irregular pattern, just beneath the name of Death. As if somebody had taken a chisel and eradicated whatever had once been written down just there. It seemed to be some kind of story knot-language. I closed my eyes and traced my fingers across the location.

Drawstone sleep stone road way Fae Laystone hill dell Greystone.

Fine. I was that much wiser. Damn old fae languages. The Yllish had probably translated it into their language and left out the articles as well. Either that or I'd misinterpreted one of the knots. What the hell was a drawstone? I had heard the expression before, though. The realisation came down like a shock and I accidentally kicked the thief's lamp at my feet over.

"_Like a drawstone even in our sleep_

_Standing stone by old road is the way_

_To lead you deeper into the Fae_

_Laystone as you lay in hill or dell_

_Greystone leads to something 'ell_." I recited. "Faeriniel, the keyword must be Faeriniel. Either that or hell."

As I spoke it, the door separated in the middle and slowly tilted backwards into the darkness. I picked up my lamp, gritted my teeth and stepped inside. There was a light, though, in front of me, that wasn't from my lamp at all. I walked closer to the lightstone prison, leaving my lamp behind me.

"Why would they call this place Faerinel? A place all humans have to cross somewFhen?" I asked myself disgusted, as a bone crushed beneath my shoe.

_Fae-rini-ell_, pronounced a voice within my head, _its not a place. Its a decision. For fae. For crippled fae such as you, Kvothe_.

"What kind of decision?" I asked. "And how do you know my name?"

_A decision between evil and good, rin and el_, answered the voice, _Kvothe. Maedre. Shadicar. I know all of your names, at least all of them that you have knowledge of_.

"Get out of my head," I said, pointing Vashet's sword threatening at the lightstone, "Though you might not be able to die you're certainly able to feel pain, lord of demons."

And then I heard for the first time his voice.

"Such brave words," said Encarnis mockingly, "However I have read my own name in your mind. I remember who I am and thus the Amyr's magic is breakable."

There was some pounding from within the stone and to my horror I saw how small fissure lines spread from the impact locations. "Yet I've also read in your mind that you want to become my Rhinta," said the voice, "Free me and I'll grant you immortality, human. You fear Death, don't you? Fear to face him after the next moon, don't you?"

I didn't answer.

"The question is rather, what do you have to offer in turn?" said Encarnis, "Lanre offered me his sleep, his love and his wisdom. What will you give to me, poor human, at the chance to slay the Chandrian? Show me your rings."

I felt the sudden desire to show him my two hands. "That's not enough," said Encarnis.

"Six times already I've found the name of ice," I said, "And I will find it a seventh time. _Ice_." As I spoke the water in the air around us moved towards my finger. My sleeping mind stirred. A ring of ice was forming itself on my smallest finger, but I my sleeping mind fell dormant again too early.

"Ts, Ts," said Encarnis, "It's flawed. Seven times you need to find a name than make a ring with the eighth time. Numbers with Master Brandeur weren't your strength, were they, my Kvothe? Keep those rings. I have no need of them. I take your sleep. But that's hardly sufficient."

"I have knowledge of the Ketan," I said, unable to turn around.

"Ketan? I take it. What more?"

"I'm an adept sympathist."

"Convenient. What else?"

"There's music," I barely whispered.

"Three things as is only just, _Rhinta_," said Encarnis. As he pronounced the words a burden heavy as stone closed itself around my heart. My music had left me. "But," I said, one last hope flickering in my chest, "I gave you four things, then, count my sleep as well."

"Are you trying to bargain with me?" asked Encarnis, "Fine. _Edema_. I'll grant you a thing beside immortality, a ring with my true name on it. If you are able to call it, you will have power over me." He burst into laughing. A ring rolled back at my feet. Which way I turned it, I wasn't able to see anything resembling a name.

"Why that is because I'm a funny person," said Encarnis, piercing a black claw through the stone, "And of course because Aleph gave me no name."

I moved closer to the lightstone.

"Stay back, Encarnis!" I threatened.

"Such a fine blade," answered Encarnis, "Though of course, I'm much finer."

I stabbed Vashet's sword right into the crack. There wasn't even a shriek. And the sword sat so firmly in, I could not draw it out again.

"With iron I bind you," I said, "As did Thelu a long time before."

"You think you can trick me? I'll find you," said the demon king, "I'll break free and then I'll find you, whether you hide in the mortal world or in the fae."

More pounding. I turned and ran through the four-plate-door as the lightstone behind me collapsed and a shadow darker than all emerged from it. Encarnis laughed. As I touched the mortal world again, I fell down powerlessly on the archive's floor. My strength had left me with the Ketan. The shadow behind me approached, Vashet's sword in its claws.

A tiny hand drew me an other short distance into tombs. Ariel stepped over me. Her face was as bright as the sun, as she stepped into Faeriniel and fearlessly lifted her chin at the demon lord. The doors fell shut behind her.

Head still spinning I heard footsteps apraoching behind me at full speed. Puppet hastened over me and started to call names down against the four-plate-door. "Wait," I croacked. But he didn't. Something hit the door from the other side, the stone shaking with effort. Puppet called the name of stone again and again, as the creature from the other side tried to break through. Then suddenly, there was a silence.

"Go away," cried Puppet at the door, "Out of my head! By Andan, by Perial, by Ordan's name. In the name of the angels Deah, Enlas, Geisa and Inet: go away! In the names of the Amyr, Savien, Selitos, Beregar, and with my own name I strengthen this door, retreat!"

He collapsed in front of the door.

I got up. "Puppet?" I asked. I gently touched his shoulder.

He winced so violently, I startled away.

"Kvothe," he whispered, "you fool. Thank God, I was not asleep this night. The door is safe."

There was sweat on his forehead from the long run. He looked pale, deathly pale.

"Though of course," he said, "we can't do anything about the other two doors of hell. If you'd only come to me when I proposed it, nothing of this would have happened. I'd have taught you caution. Now it is too late."

* * *

**Author's note: Without an accidental visit at and the speculation over there at the third book, I wouldn't have been able to recall the Faeriniel-poem. Thank you, theory bitch and all the people who use that site :)**


	34. Chapter 34: the Lackless box

At my last day before the trial with the Masters, I decided to pay Devi a visit. After all the threats Dragan had made I hoped she was the one who'd stolen the Lackless box and I could persuade her to bring it back to Meluan Alveron. If I couldn't persuade her, I hoped to steal it from her myself. After all, I was half a Lackless myself and the Lackless family had once sworn to keep the box safe.

I felt hollow from the inside as I walked to her shop. A silence was within me where my music had been and it felt like my heart had been torn out of my chest. I couldn't hope to best Devi in sympathy anymore, which was even worse considering I was most likely running into an argument with her.

"Kvothe?" Devi asked. "What happened?"

"I'm in trouble."

"That's no news. A customer has told me of your diving skills. Are you here to call in an other favour? Hoping that I can influence the master's vote on your behalf?"

"Can you actually do that?" I asked.

"I might be able to blackmail master Mandrag on a thing or two. But other than that, no."

I thought of it. But Master Mandrag was most likely on my side anyway, so it wouldn't be any use to antagonise him. "Devi, can I get out of that mess without being lashed to death or hanged?"

"Not if you want to keep the Chancellor alive," said Devi bluntly. "His vote counts double. You have to expect Brandeur's vote against you, too."

"Maybe with the new master of languages..." I said. I knew only of three masters that would support me: Awyl, Elxa Dal and Kilvin. But with a tie the decision would be the Chancellor's. Hemme again, that arrogant sadist. "...maybe Master Rhianna will support me."

"Maybe. But she's Brandeur's former giller," Devi said. "She's new and her position is shaky. If she is clever and wants to stay, she'll vote against you. Why do I feel as if you only visited me because you wanted that information?"

I smiled at her "Devi, I'm here because of your abundant charm."

"Oh, I thought you'd ask me for the Lackless box," said Devi sweetly, opening a drawer of her desk and putting a wooden small box on the table. "After all, you promised me your help with it. Nice rings by the way. I know of the fashions at Severen's court. But aren't ten a bit... overdone?"

I didn't answer. I stared at the box. Until this point I had only suspected Devi, but to see the stolen goods in her hands felt twice harder. What was even worse, I knew I wouldn't be able to read the story knots on its surface, but I had just recently met someone who might. Bast.

"There, there," said Devi, "a penny for your thoughts."

"Devi, you have to give it back," I said flatly.

"Why should I? I like it where it is." Devi patted the box on her desk. "And I like secrets."

I decided to reveal a bit of the story I'd heard from Bast. Though I would have to mix it with some lies, as I didn't want my Lackless blood becoming public. As I knew my luck, such a deed would only end in more misfortune; more people interested in my death than I had already.

"Once," I said thus, "it belonged to the Lackless family. They broke a promise. The box was cursed for it."

"Why keep something cursed?" Devi countered.

I didn't answer.

"Kvothe, Kvothe. You are in my debt. Even more than you know. I turned that soldier Dragan from your threshold, when he came to ask me for your place of living."

"He's free again?" I muttered.

"Free and angry," said Devi, "But I don't want to talk about him. I want to talk about the Lackless box. You have an idea about it, I saw it in your eyes."

I grabbed the box and stood.

"I know whom you stole it from," I said coldly, "I will return it to the rightful owner."

Devi sprang up and forced the box back on the table again. I struggled against her surprising strength. The knowledge of the Ketan was right behind my temples, after all. But it failed me. A girl that wasn't even as high as my chest could put me into a checkmate position. You'd thing I had grown used to it after Celean, but no. It stung at my pride.

"If you steal the Lockless box," Devi said calmly, "I'll break Ison."

"You won't," I said, even if I wasn't so sure about that. Devi retreated from the desk, satisfied that I hadn't moved a muscle. "I will break it right now," she said, taking out the lute from one of her cupboards, "If you don't tell me how to get that box open."

"But-"

Devi lifted the lute above her head, aiming at her massive desk.

"Wait!" I cried, "you've won. I'll get my friend here. He's the only one I know of that might be able to help!"

"Then you'd better hurry, Kvothe. I will leave this shop at midday. And if you haven't shown up by then, I will blackmail Mandrag into voting against you no matter what it costs."

My temper flashed.

"If I had a sword with me," I fumed, "you would not live till midday."

As I left before I could say anything worse, Devi said softly: "But if you had a sword with you, you wouldn't have entered."


	35. Chapter 35: Dinner is ready

Chronicler yawned.

"My hand aches," he said, looking longingly at the cellar door, where Kote used to keep his storages. "What about something to eat?"

"Of course, of course," said Kote, hurrying to the cellar door. "I forgot."As lightening struck outside, he hesitated for an instant. He glanced at the windows. "Considering this bad weather, I can hardly expect any more customers."

He vanished down the steps.

Bast started to prepare a table for the three of them, when one of the mercenaries came down the steps. "I smelled something to eat," he said, "and I'm hungry. In the interest of keeping things civilized I recommend to you-" he pointed at Bast, "to prepare a meal for eight men and me."

"Don't worry, we are able to serve your needs," drawled Bast. "I hope I will see some Aturan coins in change." He reconsidered. "No, wait, keep those coins rather for yourself. After what I've heard the coins won't be worth anything in a matter of time."

"I know that," said the mercenary, "I plan to take king Ambrose's coins, as soon as the lady runs out of it."

"What a coincidence," exclaimed Bast, "I was thinking about that, too! What's your name, warrior?"

"Radgast."

Kote emerged in the background with a basket of swedes. He placed them on the counter and began to cut the earthy crust from them. As the conversation between Bast and the mercenary continued, the innkeeper chopped the swedes to bars about a finger long and thick.

"I'm Bast." said Bast, "but between the two of us, I think King Ambrose is a tyrant, that should never have been elected king. He might be an adept war leader, but a long sighted planer like his father? I doubt that."

"The whole Jakis family," said Radgast, taking a drink from Bast's hand, "They are foul to the bone. But it was either that or letting a seven year old girl on the Vintish throne, when the king's brother committed suicide."

"Ah, the king's niece," said Bast, leaning back. "I once saw her as as a young babe when I travelled the world to find my profession. What happened to her?"

"Her parents married her against her will to Baron Jakis," said the soldier, "Then, in her wedding night, she killed the Baron. His oldest son had her executed the day afterwards."

"You never know," said Kote behind the counter, "I heard a strange rumour from a prison guard travelling through Newarre. According to that rumour Ambrose went into his father's rooms the day of the wedding. He killed his father and raped the bride. And then he called the guards, accusing her for murder."

Radgast shrugged. "What do I care? But I give you a good advice, inn keeper, if you manage to prepare that food in fifteen minutes."

Fifteen minutes later, Kote presented swede stew for nine men. "What's the advice?" he asked.

"The advice is to keep your mouth shut as soon as the king comes here this afternoon to bargain with my master."

Long after Radgast had taken the stairs, Kote still stared into the place his face had been.

"Um," said Bast uncomfortable, "is something, Reshi?"

And the innkeeper began to move again, like a clockwork having stopped because of malfunction. Like a clockwork that had been given the necessary amount of fuel to move on.

"Nothing at all," he said, serving the three of them stew as well. He sat. He ate. Outside, it started to rain cats and dogs. Bast and Chronicler exchanged a few words. Kote didn't. As the others finished their plates, he pushed his untouched into Bast's direction and said:

"Let's finish the story."


	36. Chapter 36: Bast and Devi

I had already lost two hours at Kilvin's workshop to prepare my plan. Than I had wasted an other hour with checking Bast's usual dating locations (the inns at Imre, the university's atria, The Eolian and pretty much everywhere else). I'd seen him at the Arteficery in the early morning, when he had returned from Trebon with the sword he'd fashioned for me. Had I only known that I would need his services again, I could have saved me from a lot of fruitless searching then.

But as it was I ran all over Imre, asking this and that person if they'd seen a handsome black haired student with blue eyes. It was sheer luck when I finally discovered him in a pub I'd once visited with Elodin.

"I hope it is something very important, Reshi," Bast complained as I dragged him out of his current rendezvous.

"It's an emergency," I said, "Bast, I'm about to introduce you to the most beautiful _and_ evil woman in Imre, while you're feeding on shrimps." I gestured at the girl that was about to leave and with whose face I was vaguely familiar with.

"I don't like the evil part, Reshi," sighed Bast, but he followed me. "Besides, knowing you I suspect you're not introducing her to me for romantic reasons. You probably want me to divert her, while you follow whatever your plan is this time."

"Correct by all accounts, student," I smiled at him, "You're a fast learner."

As we approached Devi's shop I explained the circumstances and my plan to him. We climbed up to Devi's shop after that. Devi let us both in, then looked at Bast.

"You!"

"I well, yes," said Bast slightly confused, "We parted in friendship, didn't we, Sarah?"

"Devi!" snarled Devi at him. "Sit down!"

Bast sat.

"Kneel and apologize," said Devi, "and make it better sound good, else I'll held young Kvothe here responsible for bringing along such a despicable liar and betrayer as you."

Bast knelt and broke into false tears, clutching at Devi's legs, while I made a further step towards the cupboard I suspected Ison in. "Please forgive me, dear Devi. What I did to you was worse than anything else I've ever done in my life. I feel so ashamed, please. Please forgive me. I'll do anything. You want me to kiss your feet? I'll kiss your feet." Bast bent down further and I made another step towards the cupboard. For once, I seemed to be lucky. I'd counted on Devi falling under Bast's charm but this forgiveness-scene would probably a lot longer. It's a sad truth of the world that forgiving always takes much longer than love.

"You want my public embarrassment?" Bast asked, "Come, dear Devi, out of this door and over all of the world I'll shout you are the most kindest, best and most gracious lover that exists in the world. If only you'll forgive me."

"Stop calling me dear Devi," snapped Devi at him "why do I always have to fall for the bad guys?"

I opened the door of the cupboard. Ison was gone.

Devi unwound from Bast's grip and came back to her desk. She saw me and scowled. "It's not here," she said.

"What, the Lackless box," I said innocently.

"No, that one is just over here," said Devi, placing the box on the table again. "I was talking about the Anthessador lute. I burned it."

"You didn't," I said aghast. "You're bluffing."

But her eyes told me she wasn't. "What use is a lute that is too expensive to be ever played?" asked Devi "Tell me is it a lute at all?"

"An expensive lute," I said, "a lute without the touch of men."

"Such a sad lute it would be," said Bast, "Like a box made to contain, but never open." He bent over the Lackless box and laughed.

"What is it?" I asked, as he collapsed helplessly over the table shaking with laughter. Devi started to smile despite herself at the sight, but looked confused as well. I wasn't, of course. I knew exactly what the fae was doing, hiding the true box under his glamour and putting my makeshift copy of it in its place.

"It's just the Lackless box," Bast exclaimed, falling off his chair and sideways from the table. A box landed on the floor as well. "Lack-less, don't you get it?"

"Obviously not, you idiot," said Devi.

"Well, if you exchange letters two to four, it's Listless," snickered Bast.

As Devi bent down to pick up the Lackless box, he kissed her. She slapped him across the face.

"Get out, both of you!"

"But, Devi-"

"You insulted me. I'll get the box open myself!" She tore the door open, crashing it against the wall.

"But what about-" Mandrag, I wanted to say, as Devi shouted at the top of her voice:

"OUT!"

It is amazing what kind of power a voice has. Bast and I fled, not daring to look back at her. It was the last time I saw her, even though I suspect she had a hand in one or two of the unfortunate events that followed.


	37. Chapter 37: expulsion

I was brought up between the horns next day. My hearing was to be held in a small circle consisting out of the masters, Simmon's father and Wilem. But word had gone around since last Cendling and the aisles in front of the master's office were filled with all kind of students, some of them fighting for the best places. There were other people as well. As I forced myself a path through the crowd I noticed a merchant selling roasted chestnuts. There was a farmer that seemed to have travelled all the way from Trebon, shouting my name as if I were a saint of some sort. I passed count Threpe to my right side, who was in a heavy argument with three other nobles. They hissed, when they saw me, making the sign against the evil eye.

Ambrose stood next to the door to the master's rooms with a satisfactory smile on his face.

"I told you, you're going to pay for your attitude of disrespect." He said, "I thought about writing a poem for your tomb stone, ravel, but I wasn't sure if you'd be able to afford one."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I take it as a compliment, Ambrose. I mean, not everybody around here would spent that much time on thinking how to bury low little commoners like me." I looked meaningful to the nobles present and made a bow into their direction. They turned around, pretending to be chatting instead of gawping. "But I know you have a affiliation towards dead persons and animals, of course."

I held up a forefinger in front of him, iron ring glinting on top and with the other hand opening the door. Ambrose's face was quite priceless. He turned red with anger at the sight of the ring that I'd stolen from him. "That's mine," he snarled, trying to catch my finger.

"Help," I cried theatrically in front of the masters, "Baron Jakis' son is trying to rob me. I'm only self defending." I let him catch my hand on purpose, than made a step into his direction. "This is for burning Anker's," I said, stepping hard on his toes. I might not have the Ketan, but even a strong child could have bested this mollycoddled overweight. Ambrose cried out in pain, but didn't let go of my hand. I retreated into the master's office, catching Ambrose's feisty arm between door and door case. In the background, Hemme started to shout something at me as I tried to pull the door close several times, grabbing Ambrose's arm so he could not pull it back.

"Excuse me," I said into Hemme's direction, "There's a problem with the door. It seems to be stuck."

Ambrose's screaming went on to the point that it downed down Hemme's snarling. As the Chancellor started to push rudely through the other masters to save his favourite student from arm break, I opened the door widely, let go of Ambrose's arm and kicked him into the crowd.

"I always wanted to do that," I said satisfactory to the onlookers, "Ever since I know that bastard."

Then Hemme had reached me and dragged me into the room by my collar, throwing the door shut. He struck me across the face, then struck again. I went to my knees, unable to resist the much burlier man than me. Hemme struck me a third time and my head started to spin. "That's enough," said Awryl, getting up. "Chancellor, this is against the constitution."

Kilvin, who sat closest to us came over and tore the Chancellor away from me, as the teacher started a kick against me. "Constitution of the university, disciplinary measures," growled the black haired master at Hemme, "Page one: Teacher's may never harm a student."

"We will see about that later on," growled Hemme, "I have in mind to update the constitution anyway. Ravel like him-" he pointed his finger at me, as I slowly got to my feet "Should have never been allowed to enter the university."

Duke Dalonir slowly clapped his hands to these words from the right side. Wilem shot a concerned glance at me. I raised an eyebrow at him, asking wordlessly if he were all right. He had gotten his sentence an hour in front of me and it had consisted of a public lashing. As Hemme started his speech, going through several papers, Wilem shook his head at me, tipping two of his fingers on the table in front of him. _I'm leaving_. I knew what that meant. Wilem was abandoning his career because of the lashing. I didn't blame him. It was a nasty experience to be lashed, if you haven't ever been in your life.

I had been twice or trice and had always hated the part when people, you'd seen all over Imre doing peaceful business, began to shout insults at you and other students from the university called for the executioner to show them your blood. And the worst was the knowledge you'd had to work with these and put your trust in them the other day. Unless you wanted to leave. Which the majority of students being lashed did.

"Are you listening to me at all?" asked Hemme.

"No," I admitted.

"No, Chancellor," snapped Hemme.

"No, Kvothe?" I asked. Elxa Dal laughed. Brandeur sighed.

"We should vote about the punishment," he said. "The constitution is quite clear about that. A student who's find guilty of killing an other student must be killed."

"Yes, but he has to be heard as well," said Awryl, putting his eyes on me, "El'the Kvothe, did you kill Simmon, Octavio of Dalonir's son?"

"I didn't," I said.

Awryl nodded his head at the other masters "The post-mortem I conducted suggested heart failure," he supported me.

Duke Dalonir snorted but held his tongue, as the masters looked at him. Apparently he was not allowed to say anything. I mustered him out of the corner of my eye. His face suggested too high blood pressure. He must have been as slender as Simmon at some time, but good food had left his traces on him. His face was much broader than Simmon's but he shared the same hair and eye colour as his dead son. He was staring with hatred in his eyes down at me as he noticed my gaze, tilting the pencil in front of him so that the sharp end pointed in my direction.

Hemme had postponed the hearing till this man could arrive. Why?

The Chancellor was speaking again.

"This is a waste of our time," he motioned into Awryl's direction. "Tell me master healer, from your vast experience, is Binder's chill the only thing that can cause heart failure? Is it the most common perhaps?"

"No," said Awryl, "but-"

"A no is completely sufficient," snapped Hemme him shut. He wasn't master of rhetoric for nothing. Hemme pointed at me "And haven't we just now seen, that this ravel is putting other students under random violence?"

Master Rhianna slowly nodded.

Master Kilvin lifted a hand "This student is the most ingenious that has visited this university since Teccam himself," he stated. "If he is expelled or killed, the university will feel the loss. In fact I sponsored him to El'the because this student has reinvented the everburning lamp. It is unfortunate that Re'lar Simmon died in its detection, but he is dead now. He won't come back if we punish Kvothe."

"We have already given him a chance once," answered Lorren from the other side of the table, "He failed it repeatedly."

"I agree," said Brandeur, "He has cost the university more than he is worth. All of us remember surely, especially you," he said, as Elxa Dal started to say something, "how we had the first use of malfeasance in a hundred years last year, involving this student. Re'lar Ambrose has stated repeatedly that Kvothe has been using demonic powers on him."

"Kvothe hasn't committed malfeasance nor has he ever threatened to," objected Elxa Dal, "Ambrose Jakis hates him because of the donkey-song Kvothe over there composed. In fact, the only person I've ever seen publicly threaten malfeasance, is you, Chancellor."

"We aren't debating about malfeasance or no malfeasance," pointed Rhianna out. "We are debating what to do with him. Two options were named thus far. The Chancellor has proposed his death which would be in line with the university's rules. Rules that indeed should be updated at some point."

I looked up at her, admiring her skill. Her words could be interpreted either way. Thus she could claim to have been on the victorious side from the very beginning afterwards. I doubted that Hemme could look through her play.

"But on the other hand," said Rhianna, "Master Sympathist to my left has pointed out that expulsion is an other option. An option of clemency, perhaps. After all, is it not much easier to be beheaded than to live on with the knowledge that you have seen all the wonders in the world and will never be allowed access to them again?"

"Now, now, you're stretching things a bit," said Hemme uncomfortably. "As of course is the custom of your gender. I'll demand a simple vote from you, dear colleagues-"

Just as he was about to finish, Master Elodin entered the room. He wasn't wearing his official robes. In fact it looked as if he'd used one of the hospital's curtains as a makeshift cloth. He seemed to have torn a hole for his head into it and had used a bit of it in the fashion of a belt to hold backside and front together. His right arm was bare. His left heavily bandaged.

"Excuse me," he said, "Am I too late for the voting?"

Kilvin and Elxa Dal exhaled. Brandeur frowned. "The university recalled your employment, Master Namer," he said, "you are injured and haven't given three classes together in the last three years."

Elodin changed places with Wilem and nodded Wilem friendly out of the door. As he did this, no one else in the whole building seemed to speak. All the eyes were on the young Master namer, some hostile, some pitiful at the sight of his broken arm. I was staring at him, too, but for an entirely different reason.

"Congratulation to the ring of ice," said Elodin at me, "though you'd have to travel quite some distance to find any snow around here." He turned around to Hemme. "Chancellor, I demand to take place in this vote. My demission will not fall into place until the day after tomorrow, as your friend Numberlass over there can surely count together on two of his fingers." He gave Brandeur a broad smile.

Hemme wanted to say something, but Elodin lifted a finger, and he fell silent again.

"Everyone else has already had his or her say," pointed Elodin out, "but Kvothe over there seems to have barely spoke a sentence. So I ask you, Kvothe: Have you stolen something else except the broken everburning lamp you found down there from the Underthing?"

"No," I lied and Elodin looked at me. With master Namer there's looking and _looking_. If he looks at you, its simply a glance, But if he _looks_, except him and you everything else in the room vanishes. He looks for your name. He looks for your soul. He looks at you like a mother would at her babe, as if he owns you somehow. Only he didn't. The ring without a name was on my smallest finger for everyone to see and Elodin hid away his face in his hands.

"What else have you done, El'the?" he asked with an ashen voice.

"Naming," I said miserably.

"I warned you." stated Elodin, "I warned you."

"What are you talking about?" asked Hemme impatiently.

"The four-plate-door," said Lorren suddenly, eyes darting between me and Elodin. "He opened it."

"Yes," breathed Elodin, "The one inside is walking the world freely again."

Several Masters shifted uncomfortably in their places. "Who?" asked Rhianna. Elodin didn't answer. He exchanged a look with Lorren. Lorren stood up.

"I have to go," he declared. Elodin stood up as well.

"Me, too. We have to avoid the unavoidable as long as possible."

Together the two Master's strode off at a hasty pace. I glanced around. Master Mandrag's hands were shaking ever so slightly. "It's too late," he whispered, "I found Puppet's body yesterday in an armchair. I didn't think anything about it, but..." He looked at me. "When?"

"It fits together," I said through gritted teeth. In Elodin's diary Puppet had been the guardian of the forbidden door. I sank to my knees. I had liked the old man. A memory of him surfaced. He had looked at me kindly, saying "bring this man again, Simmon. I might be able to do some good work on him." Useless, it was all useless. Simmon dead, Fela dead, Puppet dead. And how many others were yet to die? I balled my hand around the stone ring I'd retrieved from the Lackless Box yesterday evening. There was an other door for me and it was waiting.

Rhianna finally seized the word, "Dear colleagues," she said with a side glance at Simmon's father who seemed angrier and angrier at all the disturbances, "shouldn't we proceed?"

"My words," said Hemme, "The absent masters are excluded from the vote. First question: Who votes for expulsion?"

"Master Healer," said Awryl hesitantly, elbowing Kilvin.

"What?" asked Kilvin, "We can't expel him!"

Awryl and Kilvin broke into a whispered and hasty discussion.

I looked at Hemme's face as Elxa Dal voted for expulsion as well and it occurred to me, this was something I wanted. Hemme would probably count all masters not participating in this as votes for a death sentence. What would it matter? asked a hollow space in my heart where once music had lived. The Chandrian, I said to myself, they have to be killed.

"Master of Languages," said Rhianna, giving me her voice. Three.

"Master Sympathist," said Kilvin as soon as he had sorted out things with Awryl. Four.

"Master of Numbers," said Brandeur to my surprise. "There will soon be a lot of persons dying," he defended himself against Hemme's evil glare, "The courts are already testing their powers against each other. On top of that the thing behind the four-plate-door..."

Hemme looked at Mandrag, the only one who hadn't yet voted. Mandrag looked down at his spotted hands. Even if he stayed silent, he and the Chancellor together held only three voices, less than those for expulsion. I grinned at Mandrag. Mandrag stayed silent.

"It's expulsion, then," said Hemme. "The session is over. Tell it to all who have gathered outside that Kvothe, the so-called Bloodless, has to leave the university and never return. He will never receive his badge." At his last words the door had been opened and people were shoving themselves outside to get a glance.

I lifted my head up high into the air, high as it hadn't been in days. I said:

"You may keep your badge, Hemme, I have already made one of my own."


	38. Chapter 38: Denna's death

I left the university in a knot of people shouting and arguing. Bast was being pushed back and forth in the crowd and I'd lost count Threpe out of my eyes. After I'd left the university's premises, things quietened down a bit. Sleet offered me a job, but I declined.

"There's a friend of mine heading for Tarbean," I said, "I thought maybe I'll accompany him there, make sure that he gets a safe sea passage home and such."

"Well," said Sleet, "maybe it's good you didn't agree. I'd have to watch my back all the time, wouldn't I?"

"Yes, I doubt I would be able to overcome my... scruples."

Sleet smiled. "I bought you some chestnuts to digest your expulsion. I can still remember how bad my own felt," he said, glancing with something like nostalgia back at the university.

"Thank you," I said, sharing a meal with the thief lord of Imre as if I did this any day.

"Well, you know where to find me," said Sleet, "If you offer whatever you have stolen from Devi to me, I might be able to arrange some protection, should you ever return to Imre, that is."

He turned around and left without a word, before I could ask him how he knew I had the Lackless box. Devi must have discovered the box swap on top of all. That meant I should better not head home. I considered my options, then send paid a street runner to run to the university and get my new sword out of the chimney I'd hid it in. I instructed him to meet me at the market, where I intended to buy a few things suited for travelling.

He found me there, handing me the sword I'd enveloped in a ruined shirt of mine. I was a bit surprised he hadn't run off with it. But then the street runner had been in awe ever since I mentioned my name... I thanked and paid him. I shouldn't stay in a place as public as this any longer. I headed towards the the caravan route to Tarbean. But as I reached the fountain square I saw something that froze me in mid pace. Denna was there, with her patron. Master Ash was hitting her with his walking stick. A stick that looked oddly familiar to me.

"You stupid bitch!" he called at her, striking her again. She fell down on her knees. "You were supposed to play Senaril and Jon, not Violet's bide."

I shouldered people out of my way to get to the pair of them, but someone was faster. King Roderick entered the fountain square from the other side, just as Denna tried to get up and was struck again. "What's this?" he demanded, getting closer by his guards making a path for him. "Stop them." One of his guards nodded and captured Denna's attacker. The king bent down to see her face. I saw surprise flicker over his face, as he took her hand to lift her up.

"Have we met before?" he asked confused, just as Denna revealed the dagger she had been hiding under her body and stabbed his heart. "We haven't," she said, as the Calanthis guards closed down on her. "Father."

I would never make it in time. Denna's patron in the background started to dive further into the crowd. I saw his face. It was Bredon. I killed a guard in front of me with a stab to the back and raced on. Denna climbed into the fountain, as I was attacked by an unfamiliar Adem woman. A third prepared to strike down Denna.

"Denna!" I yelled.

She looked up and saw me.

"I'm sorry," she said.

Metal flashed. I shouted a name.

Then there was a brightness, a fading. I lost the ground under my feet as the lightening struck, shattering the cobblestones in waves all around the fountain square. Screams everywhere.

"Denna!" I shouted again.

People on the ground. I sprang across a churned guard's body. The dust cleared. Denna lay on the ground, clutching her heart. "Kvothe?" I helped her up. And then we fled, until the people on the square could figure out, what happened. We passed a mother holding a bleeding child in her arms. As we made it to the end of the square, I heard her voice through the settling dust. "Murderer, Kingkiller!" she called after us, "do you not care who gets hurt at all?!"

"That was the Arcane," somebody else shouted. "The king is dead!"

We reached the exit of the square. I saw Bredon walking away in front of us. "Bredon!" I shouted out at him. He turned. He looked at me. "Stop shouting my name, boy. You have ruined it all."

I drew my sword and rushed at him.

"No, Kvothe!" screamed Denna, trying to catch up with me.

"You've used her!" I accused Bredon, coming to a halt in front of him, "What kind of sick game you were playing?"

"You don't understand," said Bredon, taking out a piece of paper from his coat. "Calanthis had to die. If you'd read only this, it does explain everything."

I slapped the piece of paper out of his hand.

"If I read that I'll believe you no matter what your crimes are!"

Denna stepped between us two, trying to shield Bredon from my sword.

"Wait!" she called. "You're fighting the wrong man, Kvothe! Calantis ruined my mother's family and many others. He had to be stopped."

"He slapped you!" I shouted and tried to get at him.

"You idiot," snarled Bredon at me, "they would never have killed her. She is the only candidate for Vintas throne." He used his stick to prod my head from under Denna's arm. "But now, of course, being seen running with a man who killed half of the king's guards and hurt a dozen innocents, what will they think of her now?"

He tried to hit me again, but Denna took the impact.

"And you," said Bredon to her, "You betrayed me, Denna." He slapped her.

I roared, taking a few steps back to get enough space for my sword to whirl it at him. But Bredon gripped Denna and brought her into Folly's way. I stabbed her. And the sword made from dragon scales went easily through her heart, blood spilling all over her blouse. She made a surprised noise. Her legs gave in and she fell to her knees.

I felt something leaving. Her soul, perhaps.

"No, please, no! Denna!" I cradled her face in my hands, calling her name over and over again. But Denna did not answer me. She was dead, gone from me forever.


	39. Chapter 39: Thelu

I don't remember much what I did afterwards. The bailiffs tried to circle me in and I used the name of fire three more times to leave the city. I followed Bredon, but he managed to get away with the help of a greystone. I had an encounter with Dragan, trying to block my path. I burned him down. It was as if no other name existed for my sleeping mind than the fire of my fury. The bailiffs caught up with me on the road to Tarbean, but I burned their saddle belts, sending their mounts off into panic.

Then I started to run and continued to do so until the moon surfaced from the clouds. Only then my fire had burned enough away to think about the consequences. I broke down next to the road, rolling myself together like a small child, too horrified to cry. Too sad for tears. To hurt inside for an other single step on the road. My throat made a small strange noise. Like a lute string breaking, perhaps. It did not end. It went on and on and on.

I tried to kill myself then, next to the road, trying to throw myself into the sword I'd now named Folly. Folly. What a suitable name. There was no pain, nothing, as the blade went right to my chest. The blood flowing out of it was not enough to kill me. It should have been. But the lord of demons had tricked me, closing the door of death that was the only one that might give refuge from my broken soul. The door of sleep he had closed as well. Which left me only lunacy.

I forced Folly out of my chest, howling up at the moon. Then suddenly, I saw an Aleu on the road next to me. He hadn't been there before. He wore trousers and a warm wool cloak. His facial skin was golden and he had black hair and eyes in which the moonlight shone, slightly tilted, like I had only seen this far with the Tael.

"Hello, Kvothe," he said. "My name is Thelu."

I groaned.

"I'm Kvothe. I'm forsaken. Please kill me, if you can, Thelu. I am tired of life."

Thelu bent down to me and tried to lift me up. I struggled. As I did so he balanced his weight with the two mighty black wings on his back. I pushed his hands away with my left.

"Just leave me, it is enough."

Thelu sat down beside me.

"You are not alone," he said gently, "and I can not help you but for that."

I shook, unable to speak.

We sat a long time like that. Nobody else was there. Time seemed to be endless this night, time without Denna.

"You have followed the path of hate rather than that of love," said Thelu finally, getting up. "You've made your choice at Faeriniel. You are of Luckless blood. I saved your life once and it pities me what might be caused by it, what is not yet."

He looked longingly up at the moon. I got on my feet beside him, my grip on Folly so tight, the knuckles stood out of them.

"Don't pity me," I said, my own voice sounding quite foreign in my ears. "I will get her back, somehow."

Thelu closed his eyes, then opened them again.

"You will never get her back," he said.

"I am a son who brings the blood," I said grimly, "I will get her back, no matter what it costs."

"If you think so," said Thelu, "I will not hold you back. I can not. But I warn you: The Seven use this place your ancestors swore to protect. Their magic is strong around castle Valaritas. Neither I nor the other Aleu will be able to help you, if you decide to go there."

"Then I will go alone," I said, "Like Tarborlin the Great besting the witch king Scyfus."

"Scyfus was only one of them," gave Thelu cause for serious concern. "There will likely be more this time."

I gave a bitter, broken laugh. Maybe a bit lunatic, too. Thelu looked at me questioningly.

"The more, the better." I said, "I will kill them all."

"How could you accomplish which hasn't been achieved by the Amyr, the Tael and us in years?" asked Thelu, "dozen of times we have killed them or watched them being killed and always they would return. The lord of demons has granted them immortal life."

I showed him wordlessly the ring without a name.

"That makes you no different from us," argued Thelu, "Welcome in the circle of immortals that battle against the Seven. Look where it got the Amyr. The fae that used to ride for greater good got extinct."

"But for some undeserved exceptions," I said, thinking of the draugr and Bredon.

"In every war only the undeserved survive," acknowledged Thelu, "But worse are those foolish humans who try to imitate them. For example the man in the archives. And also others who did not see what it would cost them."

"I have one thing they lacked," I said darkly, scratching at my hand until it bled, "Lackless blood. Maybe the time is right now that the doors of stone have to be opened."

"You can't open the door just when you arrive there," said Thelu, "New moon doesn't work as well. We tried. And we had then all the artefacts. Do you think you can steal the candle from Haliax?"

"No. But I will open the doors."

"And then what?" asked Thelu, going on, "who is to hold Death back now that Aleph is no more?"

I looked up at him with empty eyes. "Why do you think it matters to me?"

"Because I know you. You are different from Lanre."

"You might be mistaken," I said, "Show me your blood, Thelu."

And I slashed Folly across the Aleu's comforting hand on my shoulder in a swift motion.


	40. Chapter 40: secret of the Waystone Inn

King Ambrose arrived at the Waystone Inn close to sunset. The smith's apprentice was leading him and his twenty men towards the guest house. They were wet to the bone and shivering from the travel. They wore heavy arms, even their horses, which they tied in front of the inn wore armour.

"What a pity," said Kote, looking at them through the windows. "That the innocent creatures have to suffer in the wars of men. Look at them, Bast, there's hardly any fat left on them, they carry battle and arrow wounds. Did you know the enemy archers lay aim on the horse in the first place? And yet those warriors insist to be carried in full armour on their back."

Bast shot his master a bewildered look.

"Yes, their suffering is pitiful, Reshi, however if Ambrose recognises you, you will suffer a whole lot more. Please, just go and hide in the cellar."

"There is nothing worth hiding anymore," said Kote with a flat voice. He turned to look at the Chronicler "I gather you stole my writing tries from my chamber last night, Devan?"

"How do you know?" asked Chronicler surprised. "You were asleep."

"I am never asleep," said Kote, "even though I might look like it. Now watch it, they are coming inside."

The door opened and a lot of mercenaries filed in, expertly securing Bast, Chronicler and Kote on the ground. Bast was the only one who struggled and cursed at their capturers several times, until they hit him hard enough to be silent. A man in black embroidered leather boots entered the inn. Unlike all the other soldiers he had a coat made from soft red velvet and an iron crown on his helmet.

"That's him, my king," said the smith's apprentice, pointing at Kote.

"Show me his face."

Kote was pulled upwards by his hair, one of the mercenaries putting a knife at his throat as a precaution.

"That's him," affirmed Ambrose after a while. "Give the boy his money. Lucky indeed that I haven't waited at Treya. Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to Kvothe the idiot, thief and liar?"

"Happy to see you, too, Ambrose," said Kote, "Aren't you a bit too young for a king?"

"I could ask you the same, innkeeper," said Ambrose. "unfortunately I don't have the time to deal with your mess. Give me my ring and I'll grant you a fast death."

One of Bredon's mercenaries came down the steps at this moment and was immediately seized by Ambrose's men. "Look, what we have here," one of them said, "it seems to be a conspiracy of some sort."

Kote used this moment to whisper at Bast:

"If you get a chance, run outside and take Chronicler with you. Don't take chances. Burn the building down."

"What about you?"

"You won't get any such chances," said the mercenary holding Kote in his grip. Kote mouthed a word at Bast. Bast nodded, reading _Rhinta_ from the innkeeper's lips. His master wouldn't be able to die. Either that or he planned to use the unique talent that became enhanced with becoming an immortal. Hopefully it wasn't something useless as turning fire blue. Or being a good tak player. Oh-oh.

"I'm simply a scribe," said Devan softly, "please let me go."

"Nobody goes until I get things sorted out," said Ambrose, "You there, Willie, take ten men with you and search this modest location. Look for an iron ring, undecorated. Whoever finds it will get ten Vintish nobles. Its from my mother."

With great enthusiasm the soldiers lept at the chance, beginning to destroy most of the inn's equipment in their search. It seemed they were used to this kind of buiisiness because the moved with long practiced efficiency. Soon they had finished with the ground floor and moved on to the upper floor. The silence of the Waystone Inn was regenerated.

Ambrose punched the innkeeper into the face with his iron battle glove.

"Where is my ring?"

The inn keeper did not answer. Ambrose punched again, repeating the question. Still no answer.

"Bind him to that support column over there," suggested Ambrose.

"No!" cried Bast, "Reshi, this isn't what I intended!"

"Don't worry," said the innkeeper sarcastically, "Remember how we painted this building, Bast? It's a blood red colour so a few stains on it won't show."

"Reshi!" shouted Bast again, as Ambrose drew his sword across the innkeeper's chest. Ambrose turned around and pointed at Bast.

"Shut up or I'll have your throat cut."

Bast watched in horror, as Ambrose continued the torture. Chronicler started to pray aloud.

"For heaven's sake," said Ambrose to the men holding Bast and Chronicler down. "Get them silent. I want to hear his screams."

The soldiers tore some makeshift gag from Bast's and Chronicler's clothes, roped them and dragged them towards the cellar door. They threw them down the stairs. From the ground floor they could still hear Kote's cries.

"We have to do something," suggested Chronicler, after being freed by Bast.

"Follow me," said Bast grimly, "we will do as my master has requested. Too much iron upstairs."

"But-"

Bast raised an eyebrow at him and he fell silent, scrambling behind Bast over the disorder the soldiers had left down here. They approached the southern wall of the cellar, were a tree huge boulders were immured.

"Is that what I think it is?" the scribe whispered.

Bast didn't answer, but began to pull bricks from the wall.

"potter's clay," he commented to the wet stuff keeping the bricks together. "My Reshi made me pour water over it every evening. This is our escape route."

"Waystone Inn," muttered the scribe amazed, as the two crouched through the portal into the fae, "What a fitting name indeed."


	41. Chapter 41: showdown

In the end we will not remember the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends (Martin Luther King)

* * *

The Waystone Inn was silent as the moon came out to announce the end of the day. It was not a happy silence. It was in the blood of an angel that had been used to colour the whole building. It was in the lifeless bodies upstairs where Bredon had fought the king's intruders for the greater good and it lay on the lips of the red-haired innkeeper tied to a pillar below.

He was bleeding from several cuts and had it not been for the ropes, he would have collapsed on the floor. A heavily armed man stood in front of him, holding the innkeeper's sword against his throat. Five mercenaries that had survived the fight with the Adem mercenaries watched grimly, as their master asked for the umpteenth time:

"Where is my ring?"

The innkeeper's lips twitched.

"Excuse me," said Ambrose, piercing Folly into the innkeper's arm "I didn't hear that."

The innkeeper murmured something. It sounded like some sort of song, only it wasn't a song. It seemed to be some kind of poem, the innkeeper had repeated several times during his torture already, never quite loud enough.

"What," asked Ambrose angrily, "Spit it out, ravel."

"My king," said one of the warriors, "He must have taken Mhenka. He is not reacting to your torture. Why do you not simply kill him. The fight with his mercenaries has already cost us enough lives."

Ambrose turned around to the warrior in question and smiled at him.

"Did I ask you to speak, soldier Tomkin?"

The warrior looked to the floor.

"No, your majesty. I apologize."

"...Stercus is in thrall of iron..." mumbled the innkeeper in the background.

Ambrose used the diversion to cut the soldier's throat with Folly. The man fell to the ground were he twitched for a minute or so until he fell silent.

"Anyone else?" asked Ambrose his warriors. They shook their heads, not daring to speak up as their king turned his attention again on the innkeeper. There was hatred in the man's eyes as he continued: "...Last is the lord of the seven: Hated. Hopeless. Sleepless. Sane. Alaxel bears the shadow's hame."

"Oh shut up, lightfinger," said Ambrose, "but of course you wouldn't know that nickname of yours, would you? It only started to spread after you called down lightening on King Roderick. It's all nonsense, of course. If you had power on this thunder storm outside, I wouldn't be here, would I?" He gave an unpleasant laugh.

Kote's eyes set firmly on the fireplace behind the king. Blue flickers of flame appeared between the coals. Ambrose followed Kote's gaze.

"Stop that."

Kothe didn't answer, not even as one of the cross-pieces above fell down only a few inches away. One of Ambrose's warriors gave it a kick with a boot, sending numerous decay insects running from it. "Rotten." Despite the fireplace it got cold in the room, terribly cold.

"I said, stop it," Ambrose snarled at the innkeeper. "Tomkin was right, I'll kill you, regardless of that ring."

He plunged Folly into the innkeeper's heart. But even as he did so, the blade broke, becoming brittle by some unseen force.

"What the hell-"

Several warriors cried out in surprise as their armour was corroding in front of their eyes.

"Demon magic!" shouted one of them, running to the door, but failing to open it, "The door is stuck." The rest of his words were drowned in one strike of lightening outside followed by a deafening thunder. When the man's eyes had again adjusted to the comparative darkness of the inn's room, there were seven additional entities in the room. The cellar door behind them gaped open.

There was something slightly off about the visitors, something only revealed at a closer glance. Kote laughed a laugh on the edge of insanity. He chanted:

"_If the milk turns sour, where to run?_

_They are here, the Chandrian._"

The man with the black cloak closest to Kote and Ambrose nodded at Kote. Ambrose squinted at the man's face, but even as this Haliax made a step into their direction, the shadows on his face remained impenetrable.

"Stay back!" called Ambrose at him, "warriors, take aim."

"I know you," said Haliax, ignoring Ambrose and his men. "Kvothe Lackless."

There was a cry and then there was a smooth silver movement, as the white haired guy killed off Ambrose's men with the ease of a cat streaching. Haliax did not turn around. His eyes where fixed on the red inn keeper, who was hanging in his bonds. Haliax shook his head.

"Kote," he commented after giving the inn keeper a long look, "How did you open the doors of stone?"

"Hey," said Ambrose, "that's my prisoner! I, the rightful king, command you to step back or face redemption!" He drew his sword and pointed it at the leader of the Chandrian. The blade seemed to be covered in shiny silver.

Haliax pushed Ambrose out of the way. Though he seemed to use little force, it caused Ambrose to loose his sword immeadiatly, flying a few paces backward. With a startled cry the King of Vintas crashed into the floor and crept hastily under a table. A very pale woman separated herself from the group to coax him. Someone else in the group clicked his tongue. "Alenta, just kill him." Alenta reappered from underneath the table, giving a nonchalant shrug. Ambrose didn't steer any more.

Haliax signed and peeled the remains of Folly out of the innkeeper's chest. Kvothe didn't move at all.

Haliax narrowed his eyes at the miserable figure in front of him. Kvothe smiled back at him and spoke a name. Haliax cowered as if hit.

"It's a full moon tonight," said Kvothe. "It is your last night, Lanre."

A ring rolled over the inn's floor. It was black and without name on it. Kvothe the Arcane spoke an other word and the ropes around his belly caught fire.

"It's a trap," shouted Haliax, "To me!"

He opened his shadow cloak to the others. "Come here."

"No," said Kvothe grimly, throwing a bottle of wine at the shadowed figure, "Ice."

The shadow cloak froze in mid air. The silver haired figure moved closer, caressing a blade that looked as if it consisted out of glass. As he bowed down to take up the ring it became obvious there was no white in his eyes at all.

A grey haired men and a naked woman behind him inspected the trice-locked chest which Ambrose and his men had carried down previously after having defeated Bredon's men. "Haliax!" called the woman out, "Dalenti has found something over here."

"Run back to the graystone," said Haliax.

"But the ring and candle might be-"

"I said: move."

"The ring is right here," said Kvothe, breaking Bast's glamour that disguised his rings from them. He pointed at the stone ring. "See if you can get it."

But five people paid him no mind. They started to move towards the basement doors, following their leader's example. "Cinder," said Kvothe at the seventh. "You killed my mother. The Ctheach sends its greetings to you."

He took off the stone ring and stamped on it. "Haliax. I know the name of stone. I'll break the Lackless ring if you haven't the courage to face me."

"He tries to stall time," said Haliax, "Cinder, come over here."

"But-"

The Waystone Inn's door flew open. All turned at the darkness that enveloped the frame. But there was nothing to be seen outside. A shadow fell on the floor as if the light was sucked outside. Kvothe moved his lips. There was a sudden gust of wind and the door fell closed again. But they weren't alone any more.

"I told you I would find you," said an all-too-familiar voice into the room. "My children finally found you, it seems."

"Good try," said Kvothe, "You came, Encarnis, because I called your name. Your true one."

"You will not call it a second time."

The dark creature moved deeper into the room, the Chandrian falling to their knees at the right and left, clutching their heads. "Master," said Haliax, "Please-"

"Out of my way. He is mine," said Encarnis. He walked towards Kvothe. Kvothe moved closer to the thrice locked chest. Haliax watched the dark figure in fear. It's shape left the darkness around it only once to destroy a fallen chair that lay on its path. A long scaly claw swept the chair into the wall as if it weighted nothing and was concealed in the shadow once again.

It loomed up above the chest. It hesitated.

And than it tore the chest to look at its contents.

Only that Death looked back at him.

The Waystone Inn lay in silence as Bast and Chronicler returned to set it on fire. There was not a single spider alive behind the windowpanes. There was only Death inside, howling and throwing himself at the walls of stone that had been secured with an angel's blood as the building burned down. The fire had broken the silence at last.


	42. Chapter 42: Skarpi

Bast and Chronicler entered Treya coinless and in their very last shirt, so to speak. Treya wasn't much bigger than Newarre, a few farm houses and a few crafts people's businesses that had gathered around the duke's country estate for protection. As they approached, Bast pointed out to Chronicler to a smithy, a wainwright and a potter. There wasn't an inn.

They finally made it to the duke's massive grey estate. Chronicler knocked at the door. The door wasn't opened.

"Who is it?" called someone from inside.

"Devan Lochees!"

"And who is that fellow you are bringing with you?"

"That's my apprentice, Bast Lothario," said Chronicler, "I picked him up some miles before."

The door opened slowly, revealing a second, smaller one directly behind it.

"You are late," said the guard, and gestured them inside. "I'm afraid, the duke has already left his estates some days before. He was called to the arms by the king, you see."

"Oh no," said Chronicler, "I had hoped to purchase a horse from him."

His remark drew a strange side look.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," said the guard hesitantly, limping ahead, "It's just that you don't look like you have enough coin for a horse. Let alone for a decent meal. And this Skarpi fellow who is waiting for you, he told me-"

"He is still here?" asked Chronicler surprised.

"Yes, he is. Didn't you hear the news? One of the garrisons burned down the bridge at Stone's keep. We are efficiently cut off from Atur. That is, unless you grow yourself some demon wings and fly over the crow's canyon."

He gave a weak chuckle and then started to cough, pushing them backwards.

"No, stay away. It's the consumption."

He clapped at the door.

"Actually, there's no reason for me to go inside. Skarpi!"

"Yes, Phil?"

"It's Devan Lochees and his apprentice. They want to speak with you."

The guard opened the door and gestured Bast and Chronicler inside. He closed the door behind them and went back towards the main entrance. Bast and Chronicler stood in a small chamber, the only furniture being a writing desk and a bed. On the bed sat an old man, thickly enveloped in several covers. It was cold in the room.

"Devan," said the man on the bed happily, "I thought you had been killed."

He motioned Chronicler closer and embraced him.

"Skarpi, old friend. It was close," said Chronicler seriously, "If not for my luck..."

Skarpi padded the bed next to him "Take a seat, please. It sounds as if you've brought not only one story with you, but several. Is that why you brought somebody else as well?"

He gestured at Bast who sat down on the only chair in the room. The chair gave a click of disapproval, but didn't collapse.

"In a way," said Chronicler, "In a way."

"So what about the biography of Oren Veliciter," asked Skarpi, "Did you get it?"

"Yes. But I got something far better," said Chronicler, "I got an account of Kvothe the Arcane, an account told by himself. But it is unfinished. Do you think it will be enough?" He handed him his notices.

"Enough for what?" asked Bast and was ignored.

Skarpi remained silent, turning every now and then a page, being totally absorbed by the text. Bast signed and got up. "I'm paying the kitchen a short visit, if you don't mind." Again, he was ignored. He rolled his eyes and walked off.

Skarpi finished the reading just as Bast returned with some food.

"What are these," he asked Chronicler, waving three extra sheets of paper in the inn keeper's untidy handwriting at him. It was in fact so untidy Bast had never managed to decipher it.

"I'd like to know that as well," said Bast sarcastically, "Maybe you could read it out to us, Devan? You who boast yourself to know all the handwritings of the world?"

"For a piece of bread I would kill for you," said Chronicler earnestly, horking down his portion of Bast's meagre yield. "There's written:


	43. Chapter 43: doors of stone

Once, not that much time ago, there was a refugee whom all others believed dead. He had killed an Adem warrior named Caracet and the baron of Dalonir's men who had pursued him because of a murder. He was a murderer. He had murdered his last best friend Wilem by not being able to protect him when Caracet attacked. He had killed the love of his life with his very own hands.

Still there was one thing to do. One last thing, the man had to do until he could rest his head to sleep eternally. The man called Kingkiller sneaked aboard a ship headed to Yll. There was a place on that island he needed to find. A place that others were looking for as well. A place formerly known as castle Valaritas.

Yll is a mountainous island and it was quite a mount for the man, even though he did not need sleep. The dry temperature, sparse vegetation and relentless sun made it difficult to find water or safe footing on the brittle reddish rock. From above, from the walls of the abandoned castle, the man must have resembled an ant trying to climb a sand slope.

He felt as if eyes saw his ascent, but he saw nobody.

Finally he reached the foot of the enormous castle ruin, situated on the very edge of an volcano's caldera. A large opening gaped in the walls of the ruin signifying an entrance, where no road led. The man hesitated. The stones were unlike the kind that covered the slopes of the mountain. Maybe people had carried them up here from far away. Or maybe there had been an other fortress close by. Stealing stones from abandoned buildings had been quite popular, when the ancient Yllish empire broke.

He unsheathed his sword and entered, murderer that he was. There was a glamour that broke when he did so and an angel that descended from the sky.

"Auri." I said surprised, as Auri folded her white wings behind her back.

"Hello Kvothe." She smiled happily at me. "I thought I was never to see you again."

"I thought you were dead," I croaked with a voice hoarse from lack of speaking. "I thought Encarnis killed you."

"He did," said Auri, smile diminishing, then returning as she said, "It was a fairy tale. Like in _The angel_, surely you know hat story, don't you?"

"_And Thelu pressed the dead child to his heart, and wings were given him so that he could fly_," I quoted. "Of course. You are alive."

I laughed and tried to gather her in my arms, but she retreated with a sad smile. A stone fell down one of the walls and I shuddered, making an involuntary grip to Folly.

"You need not fear," said Auri, "As long as I am here you are safe. Follow me, there's an old garden some walls ahead."

I followed her to the empty court in the middle of the castle, noticing every now and then signs that the castle was indeed inhabited by somebody. As we passed one of the rooms I spotted two candles on a table, that looked as if somebody had carried it up here. One candle was black and an other white. Dread filled me. I had seen these two candles once, on a drawing that burned down at Anker's. The Chandrian were using this place.

I stuffed the candles into my pockets. Maybe I could use them to make an emergency wax mommet. That was nonsense of course, but I hadn't time to reconsider, as Auri called out for me from outside. Fear rushed through me like a waterfall. I sped ahead, regardless of the sounds I caused.

"Auri!"

She was there, next to an old greystone that formed the centre of the inner court. She turned around at me with a look of surprise on her face.

"Kvothe?"

"You have to leave," I gasped, "there are bad, very bad people living in this place."

"Do you mean the Seven?" she asked, "You needn't worry about them. As long as I'm here they won't draw close. Thelu send me to guard you."

"Guard me in what way," I said, retreating a step from her as I recalled something, "He spoke to me as well and said the angles cannot enter this castle."

Auri gave a big smile that was not like Auri at all. Her eyes turned dark and chill and then her wings fell off and she morphed into an naked woman standing in front of me, with a sword in her hand.

"Caught me, stupid human," Ferule said and attacked.

She was a formidable sword fighter, driving me across the garden with her pure skill. My power was nothing against her knowledge. She laughed joyfully, as I failed to protect me with Folly and yielded a wound on my arm. "Blood," I called out to it, but it didn't close. I remembered Elodin and called the name of fire to burn it shut, but again it wouldn't work.

"That is because I have a magic sword," sneered Ferule and made me retreat against the dry water basin in the middle of the garden. It disappeared into a dark pit, what might have formerly been some kind of cistern, as there was a water furrow leading towards it.

"How did you know my name?" I asked, trying to stall time.

"Oh," said Ferule, making an other pace towards me. I noticed her foot nails were black and bent like some kind of claws. "I know it from Encarnis of course, whom you freed. He called me. Said to me to guard this place. Said to me that I should kill you."

She slashed at me again. I fell over the water furrow. "Fire!" I shouted at her, sending her hair to burst into flame. "Water." Ferule countered, and the flames extinguished. "Who are you to think you can beat Ferule Demonblood in naming? Water."

Where I was standing, the rock exploded beneath my feet as small fissures filled with water expanded with her will. The ground shook and I threw myself down. Then the movement ceased, Ferule wearing an annoyed expression. "Damn it," she said. "There's not enough of it. I'll have to toss you down there manually."

She pointed to the cistern, then leapt at me again. "It's a very long fall down there, _Rhinta_" she said, severing one of the sinews in my sword hand, "I know of course that I can't kill you permantently. I lied to you before."

As Folly fell out of my grip, she kicked me against the chest, sending me backwards into the basin and towards the dark hole in it. Her claws tore my shirt and seized blood. I couldn't use the Tael-shriek against her as I had lost music. I had lost sympathy as well. And the Ketan. There was naming, but she was obviously more skilled in it than me. But I was Edema Ruh, one of the finest actors on earth.

"Wait," I said, "I'll go down there deliberately." I turned my back to her and started to walk towards the pit, hoping that she would follow me instead of attacking me from behind. As I approached the pit I saw some strange carvings on the greystone that towered next to it. I ran my fingers above them. As my hand touched the stone, it gave a dark tuned note.

Both Ferule and me startled.

"What was that?" asked Ferule, "show me that ring on your hand."

The Lackless ring, of course. I hoped I hadn't tripped off anything accidentally and went to stand directly next to the pit. "I'm going down with all I have," I said, drawing one of Haliax' candles out of my pocket and waving them at her.

"No, wait," shouted Ferule, but it was to late already.

"Fire," I said, lighting the black candle and letting it fall. It went down quite a long way. She had not lied to me about that. I stepped into the air. Ferule was to far away to catch me, but she called the name of the wind and it steadied me one last moment she needed to secure me.

Then we were struggling bare handedly at the edge of the pit, just as I had planned. Ferule's sword lay abandoned some feet away. She wouldn't need it though. I was a broken tree that that hardly needed any punching to topple over. But as I fell, I grabbed her leg and on my hand there was Ambrose's iron ring.

"Surprise," I said calmly, as the iron burned into her skin and she hissed involuntarily. It was not enough to give her any real damage, mind you. But it was enough to unbalance her. I threw all my weight on her leg and pulled towards the pit. And Ferule fell. A long way down.

Then there was a silence.

I picked Folly from the ground and tried to do something to my bleeding wound. Like whispering the name of blood, encouraging the blood to dry faster and applying a bandage, when this didn't work. Then I followed the water furrow out of the castle. It was a rather broad water furrow, hewn into the mountain itself, to broad to exist solely for feeding the water basin in the garden. From my lessons with Elxa Dal I knew though, that if you accelerate water fast enough, it can cut through a stone like a hot knife through butter. Thus I had my suspicions. An other reason for leaving the castle was that one of the Chandrian might come through that greystone any minute.

I wasn't a child anymore, I thought (Damn it, I mean this man following the water furrow thought!). As he followed the water furrow, he cast one last glance to the castle. From above, the outline of its towers were visible, as well as some tower ruins further to the south. In fact, one of the peaks the mountain edge was having seemed to be a huge heap of collapsed stones. The broken tower indeed. Had the man been interested in such things he would have dug out the remains of Myr Tariniel beneath the castle ruin. But he wasn't and thus he walked on and discovered the lake.

The water furrow lead him right to an artificial lake in the eastern slope of the mountain. There was another huge greystone blocking the path of the lake's water into the furrow and further downwards. The man had finally found what he had come for. He approached the greystone, little pictures of men and animals painted on the smooth stone and the stone walls some other people seemed to have erected to ensure noting escaped from the other side of the stone. On these walls was da diffrent kind of script, the same markings as in the castle's courtyard. The man wasn't able to read them, but his fingers could partially. They warned and cursed the man who should try to break the wall and pass through the stone. He doubted though that anyone could pass through it, (whether it led to the Fae or somewhere else) because this greystone was flawed. There was a hole in it in the middle of the story knots, big enough for a man to stick his hand in. The man tore the stone ring from his finger. It was soaked in his blood.

He spoke a name and the white candle in his hand was ignited. The fire separated at his will and formed a ring of fire on his right hand. Te candle's light changed drawing all light around it to the wick. Some areas in the scripture lit up in its darkness. A fraction of the stone retreated, forming a circle the likes of which might be the perfect place for a ring. The man bend down and placed his stone ring there, but nothing happened. He waited. He waited until the night began, with a flawless moon staring down at the efforts of a lone man.

But he still waited. It was a special night. He had picked it carefully and he had picked the things to bring with him careful as well. As the moon was obscured by some sort of shadow until it was totally dark but for the stars, the man hurried away and shouted a name.

"Valeritas!" There was a crack, and then there was a gush trickling out of the hole in the greystone and then there was a thunder as the water of the lake poured down into the water furrow, destroying the greystone that had barred its path beyond repair.

The man closed his eyes, tracing the path the water would take in his mind. It would go down and gather speed. It would reach the water basin and flow into the pit. Then it would fall a long way down, hitting the end of the pit with the relentless force of an hot knife cutting through butter. Then, more water would come down, but it wouldn't have a way to retreat. Down there, it was the solid heart of the mountain itself. It would explode from the inside.

The last droplets of water left the lake into the water furrow. Then there was a deafening bang that shook the whole mountain. Stones and dust were catapulted into the air, as the water sought its way. The ground shook as if it wouldn't stop anymore. But it did. And as everything subsided, a whole portion of mount Valaritas was no more. The man had to climb down to examine the huge portal the explosion had exposed. It was a double door of stone, two giant doors, fitting near seamlessly together.

A rivulet of water dropped beneath them into the depth and it was slowly forcing them open. The doors shook, then began to tilt slowly outside. It was dark in there, dark and wet. Water touched the man's boots and trousers as he carefully entered the treshold. It wasn't cold. It was warm; and as warmth is the lowest form energy can take, it would no doubt become more difficult further inside.

But the man didn't hesitate. He entered with a grim expression and empty hands but for a small wooden chest he had recently fashioned. It would suffice to carry Death from his prison.

As the man reappeared some time later from the doors, wooden chest pressed to his heart, he wasn't the same anymore. For Death had chosen the man's name as a thing tight held in keeping and consumed it.

**Author's note: I stole the name of the** fairytale The angel **from Hans Christian Anderson. Kvothe does not quote it correctly, though. And the technique I described to be used by Kvothe to uncover the doors of stone was last practised by the Romans in** Las Médulas **for gold mining. Of course, in contrast to them the Chandrian had magic to do all the digging... If you are wondering what castle Valeritas looks like in my fantasy, look for Qasr Al-Azraq, a jordanian desert fortress built in the early 4th centuary.**


	44. Chapter 44: The end

Skarpi slowly exhaled, as Chronicler finished his reading. Bast had stopped eating. He reconsidered then started eating again, this time a little faster. Chronicler stuffed his papers away. Skarpi looked like an old person that had finally received a message that was unwelcome but no surprise.

"So," asked Chronicler hesitantly. "I have a question."

Skarpi raised an eyebrow at him. Chronicler blushed and spoke rapidly:

"I mean, when we burned down the Waystone Inn, did we free Death or is everything just fine? Will the Aleu blood Kvothe used on the building be sufficient or will we all die soon?"

"As a matter of fact," said Skarpi tiredly, "I think its the latter."

"I think I'll return to twilight," said Bast.

"That will hardly help," said Skarpi sadly, "The fae is inseparably connected to the mortal world. The humans will die. The animals will die. Fae will die. Everyone, without exception. The end has begun."

"Well, since the end has begun," said Chronicler to Skarpi, "Do you mind if I call you Selitos?"

* * *

Far away in the fae, Kvothe opened his eyes. He was naked and lying under a full moon. He tilted his head to the side.

"So I was able to keep my promise, after all," he said hesitantly to her that lay next to him, waiting, "I wasn't so sure if I would make it."

Felurian traced her fingers over some freshly healed wounds. "the sleeper awakens at last," she said, "did you think I would let you die, when you fell across the threshold close to death? No, you are mine and mine alone."

Kvothe looked into her eyes and wanted to believe.

"until death separates us," whispered Felurian.

* * *

In the end, there was only Death and Death reigned the world alone. There were a few things that existed in this late landscape, like wind, fire and remnants of what had once been, but there was no life. No animal, no mushrooms, no bacteria, no fae, demon or Amyr. There was no moon, no Aleu and no tides. There was only Death and Death sat on his throne and laughed.

He did so a long time. He grew bored. He yawned and started to pace around. Still nothing happened.

"why do I have to do this job?" he asked himself, kicking at a stone "who put me in charge? why do I exist at all? oh how I wish I were not Omega," Death said, "Any other name would do. Like for example Greatness, um, or Super-Stone-Kicker. Or maybe just the Start."


End file.
